


Fangs of the Wolf

by kayura_sanada



Series: Fanfiction.Net Archive [9]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hackers, Alternate Universe - Police, Anal Sex, Crimes & Criminals, Duo Maxwell Is A Hacker, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Everyone Else Is A Cop, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, aka The Story That Taught Me I'm Horrible At AUs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-14 12:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 123,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15388812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayura_sanada/pseuds/kayura_sanada
Summary: Heero's on a murder case with no leads, and he pulls in Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei to help him out. Who are G, O, S, and H? And who is killing them? Who's the next target? And who is Shinigami, who helps from within the shadows?First posted on ffnet from 07/15/09 to 07/25/10.





	1. Points of Authority

It was one of those days. You know, the ones that are so pretty they piss you off? Every so often they can be seen as beautiful, but that was only when your life was going well, too. Otherwise the days pissed you off.

It was a bright, sunny morning in the old city of Lynwood, with little thermals on the streets and dew drying on the grass. Heero glared at it all from his living room over his first cup of coffee. It was a bad morning, and there was no sign of things becoming magically better. The files on his coffee table were neatly arrayed to show every disadvantage point.

Bad. The situation was bad. The killer was good – no hair fibers, no blood, no nails, no skin, no clothing, no nothing. It wasn't like the victims had been cleaned, nor had the areas in which the victims had been found. It was nothing new to have a hard case, but it _was_ something new for neither he nor his partner to have any clue as to what was going on.

He and Trowa had been together since Wufei had been put on a special case in the narcotics division. It had been three months, but Heero wasn't having too much of a problem with Trowa. He, like Wufei, was quiet, calm and intelligent. Trowa worked well with everyone. He was even-tempered and astute. Yes, Heero could work with him. There was no problem there. And they'd been able to crack their number of cases without slowing down. The man was quick, and it was no wonder he'd transferred from that small town of his to Lynwood.

It was this one case that was taking them down. They'd had two others, but they'd been completed a week ago. They'd gotten only one other, a quick case of robbery with complete amateurs. That one would finish by today or tomorrow.

No. That case wasn't in the least bit stressful. It was just this one, just this one bastard who went around looking for old men to pick up and cut to ribbons. How could such a bloody mess leave no clues? It was unbelievable.

And the news. Heero turned his gaze to glare at his television screen instead of the sunny sky. Of course they were labeling the homicide department incompetent. No matter that they'd solved twenty other cases in the past few months – oh no. Just one case left unsolved and the media jumps all over you like rabid hyenas.

He downed his coffee and placed it directly into the dishwasher. This case was eating at him. He wasn't one to have a case lay on his desk for long. All his colleagues, even his superiors, looked at him in amazement. The only reason he hadn't risen too far was that he wanted to remain active. Desk jobs didn't suit him.

He grabbed up his briefcase. Money wasn't an issue, since he'd inherited from an old man at a young age. He didn't remember much about Odin Lowe, just that the man had picked him up from the streets and housed him. Odin Lowe had often left the house – and Heero – alone on business, but the man had taken Heero in as his son. But then, one day, instead of Odin Lowe's return, a big man in a dark uniform came to the door and informed him that Odin Lowe had died while working. For Heero he had left everything – the house, the money, the freaking car.

Heero had been ten.

Heero's cars had changed, but the rest hadn't; he still lived in Odin Lowe's beautiful Victorian. But he'd gone into a vocation that gave him the opportunity to be granted forgiveness. For not being able to protect the one man who had been his family, he would forever work to save everyone else he possibly could. And then the world would be just that one step closer to peace.

He got into his police issue car and drove to work.

* * *

Duo didn't understand why cops even bothered with the normal-looking car thing, because with all those damn sticks popping out of it, it was more than obvious that the car was police-issued. Duo watched another one pass and shook his head. What was it about becoming a cop that made all of them complete idiots?

He went back into his shop and looked around. His job was simple enough, and hid his other abilities fairly well. Nobody ever suspected a mechanic of being intelligent, either. His other business, his money-bringer, sat at his house on hibernate.

He rolled his shoulders. His mechanic business, despite the fact that he never advertised in any way, was slowly growing thanks to word-of-mouth. He'd gotten a request for an oil change and a busted rear fender just yesterday. The rear fender awaited him.

Whatever the idiot did, he'd managed to tear up the back of his car pretty well. The fender had to be completely replaced, the paint redone. A few bumps needed un-bumping, and Duo thanked the miracle-invention that made doing such a thousand times easier.

It was, of course, when he was almost done that he was bothered by a knock on the garage door. He put down the paint and turned, a mega-watt grin already in place. It was Hilde. His grin became a bit more real, and he kindly turned down his rock music for her. She was a pop fan. Freak.

“Hey there, Duo!” she called, waving. As if he hadn't seen her.

“Hey, Hilde!” he called back anyway. “You're looking quite like the artist today!” She did, in fact, have one of those French artist cap things and a striped shirt on.

She giggled a bit. “Oh, stop it, Duo. I came to see how you were doing.” She looked around. “Still not too busy, huh? I could always-”

“No, thanks, Hilde. In a big ol' city like this, I like having a small shop. Especially since there's only me.” He looked around, as well. There was enough room for four cars plus him and his gear. That was because of his other job – one not even Hilde knew about. She was a stick in the mud, and she wouldn't like hearing about his... eccentricities.

“Oh, Duo.” She perked up. “Hey, Duo, why don't you came with me to lunch today? There's this new pasta place I want to check out.”

Duo weighed his options and shrugged. He had to socialize sometime, right? Besides, he always ended up enjoying himself despite everything. “Sure. Where is it?”

“It's just off of Newberry. 'Pasta Plus.' Everybody keeps raving about it.”

Hilde, as a Neo-painter or whatever, lived for raves. “Really? What would I do without you, Hilde?”

“Go to those same boring places,” she answered immediately. “See? I save you from a life of boredom. So when will you settle down with some appropriately hot rich guy and introduce me to his cousin?”

Duo laughed. They could never go through an entire conversation without Hilde bringing up this topic. It was like a ritual. “When he walks in that door.” And he pointed to the door of his garage.

Nobody entered.

“See? Not today. Now scat. I've got work to do.” And he shooed her out.

Duo turned back to his shop and frowned. His life didn't need any more complications. Between this job and his other, between carefully teetering between the Jester and, online, Shinigami, he just couldn't take much more. It was difficult enough.

He wasn't just some guy who'd made a shop. He wasn't just another mechanic. After all, he'd once been a street rat. A kid on the city streets without anyone to help him but the other little rats. And then, after pneumonia had taken most down one winter, he'd been picked up by Father Maxwell and his nuns, Sisters Helen and Mary. And then after that disaster, he'd been shoved back onto the streets.

That's where Shinigami had been born.

Duo shook off his thoughts and looked around. There was only the paint job to finish, then he'd be done for a while, unless some cruel soul decided to walk in. His clock on the wall said that he had an hour to wait before Hilde's lunchtime began.

But he'd learned how to wait patiently before he began his little side-show. It would be bad if he were caught now, after all his hard work.

* * *

Heero stared at the files he'd already memorized with his third cup of coffee cooling at his side. New information wasn't going to just magically appear. Unfortunately, for anything new to potentially show up, another body was necessary.

Trowa came up beside him and leaned over his shoulder. There were no words spoken, but nothing needed to be said. They were both agitated over the lack of evidence and the non-existence of the case. Their frustration could be read by one another, and that was all they needed to communicate.

“Wufei is still hip-deep,” Trowa told him.

“Of course. He wouldn't have been called in otherwise. The man used to be in the narcs, after all.” Heero idly took a sip of his cold coffee. “We can't expect him to be brought back to us any time soon.”

Trowa nodded, cradling his own cup. “I agree.”

Heero pushed back from his desk and stood. “We need to find _something._ Doing nothing only leaves him the chance to strike again.”

Trowa eyed Heero carefully. He seemed as cool and calm as ever, but inside he was burning with the need to take action. So was he. “I've asked the chief to make this case our only one.”

Heero turned to him sharply. “And?”

Trowa nodded. “He agreed.”

Heero snatched up his cup with his usual sharp grace. “I see. That means he's desperate, too.”

“You didn't notice that when he put us three on this one case?” Trowa asked dryly.

“Are we allowed workers?”

“Yes. Three.”

Heero nodded, then tapped the files. “Let's get them rounded up and inform them of the details of the case.”

“There are details?” Trowa returned, then pointed out his choices. “I think Carlton, O'Hara, and Winner should be on this case.”

“Winner?” Heero questioned. Carlton and O'Hara were veterans in the force, but Winner had only joined recently.

“Yes. I've watched him closely. He seems... he almost seems to know what's happening before it does, especially in one-on-one interaction with the enemy. He's smart, too.”

Heero nodded. “I'll trust your judgment on this one, Barton.”

Trowa smiled a bit. He knew it was an extremely rare privilege. “Thank you.”

Heero just huffed. “Let's get them all rounded up.”

* * *

Duo wasn't a crook. He would tell everyone that, and though he may run and hide, he never lied. His money-maker wasn't illegal. Every once in a while he even did something as boring as making sites for someone or some business.

But mostly he just found money and sold it to the highest bidder. He wasn't some terrorist kind of information-taker. But let's say a genius hacker just happened to find someone taking money from the bank. Then say he asked both the bank and the crook to cash out for the name. Granted, he always ended up giving the information to the side of good, it was more a safety precaution than a belief that good should win. If the crooks got away, they may start trying to find him. That wouldn't be good. So he took as much money from the banks and the companies and the publishers as he could. On-line and in the papers, he was known as Shinigami, the God of Death, the Man of Judgment. For a price, he will take down any baddie born.

It was fun, and he got some good dough out of it. And of course he hid it; he wasn't stupid. He managed to keep it all over the place, carefully encrypted.

The only people he refused to work with were cops.

He would never forget that day, when he'd returned from school to find some uniforms beating Father Maxwell.

The next day the church had gone up in flames.

But he'd come further than that. He'd lived. It seemed to be his curse. That was why he'd taken the name Shinigami – because he never died. He would live on for a good, long while. Maybe.

But now wasn't the time to deal on these matters. For now he was with Hilde, listening to her complain about some guy at her art show who had dared to say that she was trying to impersonate Monet while her art looked more like an Ed Sullivan cartoon. Duo had no idea what that meant, but commiserated with her nonetheless.

He thought about the latest crimes he'd heard about on the news that morning as she continued. Even he had to disagree with the newscasters on that score: the police weren't incompetent. There simply were no clues. And he should know; he'd been keeping tabs on the case from the beginning. Because the first death had started that day when he'd lost his first home.

* * *

“The bodies have been left in strategic areas to be found at certain times. One in a diner that opened at noon, another in a back alley known to be used by a gang at nine-thirty at night every Saturday. The culprit wanted us to find these bodies at these times. Here are the pictures.” Heero handed out five pictures of each body – twenty pictures in total. “The only thing left with each body is a letter, as you can see. G, O, S, and H.”

“Gosh?” Quatre Winner questioned.

“Yes, and in that order.”

“That makes no sense,” O'Hara, a fairly wide man with graying black hair, replied. “It's ridiculous.”

“Yes,” Trowa agreed. “We believe the murderer wants us to run in circles with these letters. The men's records have been found. G is Larry Nomann, O: Ham Anchee, S: Jack Johnson, and H: Carl Jay.”

“They don't match,” Carlton noted.

“No,” Quatre put in. “Those names aren't real.”

“That's right,” Heero agreed, impressed. “Larry Nomann: There ain't no man. Ham Anchee: Ham and cheese. Jack Johnson, or John Johnson: a simple fake name. Carl Jay: Call J.”

“J?” Carlton repeated. “Who the hell is that?”

“We don't know,” Trowa replied. “But it will probably be the next note on the next body.”

The silence in the room seemed to drip. “What do we do?” Quatre asked finally.

“We have to find out these men's real names,” Heero told him. “That's the only thing we _can_ do. If we find out these men's real names and real pasts, we may stop the next killing from taking place.”

“All right.” Quatre hesitated. “This... would be mostly a computer thing, right?”

“Of course, shrimp,” O'Hara said good-naturedly. “Don't you know how to operate a comp?”

“No, I know how to work a computer.” Still he hesitated.

“What is it, Winner?” Trowa asked.

Quatre looked at him. “Well, we have a computer team, and I'm sure they're working hard, but...”

“Just spit it out, kid,” O'Hara advised.

“Well... there's one man out there who can find any information.”

“He's considered a vigilante, Quatre,” Carlton said. “Shinigami is an info merc.”

“Yes, but he's able to find anything,” Quatre argued. “We may have something against him, but working with him may mean being able to save this 'J' person and finding out what this person wants.”

“No,” Heero said decisively. “Besides, Shinigami doesn't work with cops. He said so himself one year ago.”

Quatre chewed his bottom lip. “I understand.”

Heero nodded. “If that's it, then this meeting's over. If you find anything, let the rest of the team know immediately. We'll all take the next step together.”

“Right.” Carlton stood and stretched. “Well, this should be interesting. Let's see if my index fingers will cramp.”

O'Hara rolled his eyes.

* * *

Quatre went to his desk and stared at the screen. He'd said he understood. He didn't say he wouldn't try.

He went onto a fan-site of Shinigami's and sent a letter to the owner of the site, reading:

Please send this to Shinigami.

_Shinigami, this is Quatre Winner from the Lynwood City Police. I would like to request your assistance on a certain investigation. Please get in touch with me as soon as you can. Thank you._

He stared at the message for a minute. The man – or woman – could completely ignore his plea. Still, Quatre had the feeling that Shinigami wasn't bad.

In any case, it was a long shot. He sent it off and began his own search.

* * *

Duo got the message via his phone at one-thirty-eight pm. He smirked at it. So the police were that desperate, were they? Pathetic. But who was this Quatre Winner person? He wasn't high up in the list, and according to Duo's info, he wasn't a part of the investigation.

“I see,” Duo murmured. So they'd taken it to the next level.

Duo looked around. The fender-replacement had been returned shortly after he'd returned from lunch. Nothing else had occurred so far.

Breaking code, he closed up shop for the day and left his number on the door in case there was an emergency. Then he left to check out the latest.

* * *

He'd been right. Winner and two vets, Simon O'Hara and Charles Carlton had been assigned to the team already including Yuy, Barton, and Chang, the three smartest in the division – hell, any division. And they were all looking for the same thing he'd been searching for for the past three days – names. The four handed out were obvious fakes when put side-by-side. The four had been together, and they'd all decided to disappear together. And they'd been able to.

Criminals, maybe, but... they were old. If they were criminals, they're buddy had been in jail for a while. But no one had recently been released, and no one's escaped, either. That was out.

So what, then? Doctors? Businessmen? Scientists? CIA? They'd completely erased themselves from the network, then replaced the information with fakes. And they'd been careful; they'd been in touch with one another. They'd kept the information completely different for each one. One called himself a dentist, one a fisherman, one a plumber, one a PE teacher. One went to a community college in America, another in Spain, another to a private college in Britain, and the last dropped out of high school.

They were lying. But there was no proof.

There were always traces, no matter what. There was always a hole. Duo just had to find it.

Dammit, he wouldn't be shown up by a bunch of dead codgers.

He worked tirelessly until seven. He hadn't gotten far, but he'd found a pretty little smuggling ring occurring in exports. Duo sent off a note to those idiots and fixed dinner.

In another hour he'd received a reply for $40,000 if he kept his mouth shut. He let the shippings manager know he was in the market for information on lost items and then rerouted his phone all over the place. The phone would eventually lead the police to Italy. Only then did he make his reply.

_I understand you've lost four imaginary men._

Then he sent the message through and continued his investigation.

* * *

When Quatre received the message on his cell phone, he went straight to the superior he knew had given him his position.

“Um, Lieutenant Barton?”

Trowa looked up from his computer and caught Quatre's gaze. Quatre always had a strange feeling around Barton, as if he was on a slight buzz. He also found his breath oddly short at times, and felt heat trace its way up his back. He knew the symptoms.

“Yes, Sergeant Winner? Is there something I can do for you?”

Carefully Quatre entered the room. He could get into a lot of trouble for this. Should he just keep it a secret? Maybe that would be for the best...

Trowa leaned back in his chair. “So,” he started conversationally, “you contacted him.”

Quatre stiffened. “I...”

Trowa chuckled. “I knew you would. And?”

Just like that? Quatre walked forward and showed Trowa the message.

“I see. Respond.” Trowa smiled grimly. “Heero will never admit this, but we need all the help we can get.”

Surprised, it took Quatre a moment before he began to respond.

_Yes. Is there anything you know?_

Then he waited.

* * *

Duo pushed away from his computer in disgust. These four assholes had encrypted themselves six ways to Sunday. He was no closer to finding out their true identities than he had been that morning.

It was evening now, and darkness was descending. Still he'd managed to find nothing. The only good thing about the day was that export deal. The manager offered only $1,000. Duo upped the price to $1,500 and kissed the forty grand good-bye. Damn, but being bad paid a helluva lot better than being good.

Duo had the manager leave the money in his own account. In five hours, through an untraceable link, Duo would receive the money in one of his many accounts across the world.

But on this homicide case, there was nothing. These scientists triple-checked everything, and they'd had plenty of time to cover their tracks. No one would have suspected them – until now.

The last one had to have been killed last on purpose. The murderer knew the names were fake, and he knew that Carl Jay meant Call J. The killer knew who J was. In that, he was five steps ahead of the police. The police didn't even know who'd been killed. They were at point A while the bastard was at Point F.

But Duo was one step ahead of all of them, because he also knew that the person who'd killed those four geezers was also the same person who cut Father Maxwell and Sisters Helen and Mary to ribbons. He would never forget coming back from his little mission to find the three of them lying on the ground inside the church, already sliced and dying. Father Maxwell and Sister Mary had already met their God, but Sister Helen had held on... for him.

But her body had been drained, and she'd quickly left him, as well. He'd barely escaped before everything fell.

What the hell was the connection? He stared at the bodies and tried to imagine what those men had originally looked like. One of them looked almost familiar if he reconstructed the face, but he couldn't say from where. Or maybe he was just so tired from doing all this damn searching so far today.

He looked at his phone. Earlier he'd received a response from the dear Sergeant Winner asking if there was anything he knew about the murders. Duo hadn't yet responded. He didn't know if he wanted to react to the cry for help or not. Finally, he pulled it out and responded.

_I don't help cops._

* * *

Quatre was about to give up on getting another reply when he got another one, short and sweet. This time he didn't bother to go to Trowa before he replied.

_Then how about just helping me?_

He waited with baited breath, hoping against hope that he would get an answer before he or Trowa left the station. It was past their hours, after all.

But this time it came quickly.

_How much are you offering?_

Quatre blew out a breath. Leave it to Shinigami to want money for cracking a murder case. Thankfully he had plenty of money, thanks to a family that was close to disowning him. And he also knew how to deal.

_$1,000._

He waited. It was over five minutes before another response came.

_$2,000._

He smiled. It would end at 1,500 – exactly where the both of them had wanted it.

Allah, he hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

* * *

Duo blew out a breath and changed his search, even as he completed the deal with one Quatre Raberba Winner.

Father Maxwell couldn't have been the only one charred beyond recognition for no apparent reason.

He pulled up the reports on the Fire of the Maxwell Church and sat back, sending one last message through his phone.

_I'll keep you posted._


	2. Shadow of the Day

Heero awoke to another bright and cheery morning, but this time to a surprise phone call.

“Heero? It's Trowa. We've got something.”

Heero sat up, instantly awake. “What is it?”

“Photos. Lots of them, along with clippings. G.O.S.H. aren't the only victims.”

“What?” Heero stood and dressed. “What do you mean?”

Trowa hesitated for a split second. “Someone brought these clippings and photos to the station. A manila envelope, no addresses.”

“Someone nearby, then,” Heero surmised.

“Maybe,” Trowa hedged. He knew something, but he wasn't going to divulge it, at least not over the phone. “In any case, it seems that fires have been started to cover the other bodies, but someone's linked them. I'll tell you more when you get here.”

“I'm on my way. ETA ten minutes, maximum.”

Heero grabbed his keys and rush-walked to his car.

* * *

When he arrived, Trowa and Quatre were waiting for him. “Lieutenant Yuy,” Quatre began, but Trowa cut him off.

“Here's the envelope the evidence was in. As you can see, it's taken some abuse.”

Indeed, it had taken a couple rips and quite a few bashings. A corner had been ripped clean off. “It's seen some wear and tear. So the deliverer is saying that we can't pin-point his or her location.”

“Yes.” Quatre nodded.

“So what was inside it?” Heero asked.

“These.” And Trowa laid out seven pictures. One was of an old church, two of an ancient warehouse, two of a two-story house, two of a martial arts dojo, and one of a factory. All of them were charred ruins. “And these.” Newspaper clippings were spread to correspond with the picture they matched with. Each wrote of arson that ended up taking lives. “Look here.” He pointed to the clippings related to the factory. “The man named here is Trowa Barton.” At Heero's sharp look, he shrugged. “It's not a coincidence – I remember this. I had no name then, and was raised by various criminals before ending up there. It's all in my file. When this man died, his name was offered to me. I accepted.”

Heero frowned. He remembered something in the rumor mill about the authenticity of a merc lieutenant. “I see.”

“And this man.” Quatre pointed to the picture of the house. “I know a man named Rasid Kurama. He was once targeted in this exact house. He had escaped, but two of his men hadn't.”

“His men?” Heero questioned.

Quatre blushed. “Well, there was a time when he and his men had gotten into a sticky situation, and I helped them out. They became... sort of like glorified bodyguards. I _am_ the son of a very wealthy man, after all. I stand to inherit at his death.”

Heero nodded. He'd heard of that, too. Winner had been labeled a spoiled rich kid when he'd first arrived. He'd proven himself since.

“And this martial arts dojo is the one in which Wufei's sensei had resided,” Trowa pointed out.

Heero hissed. Had they been targeted all those years ago? It was before they'd become cops. “And this one? The warehouse?”

“The clippings say that a man, unidentified but with a charred license reading Dino Welo, had been found inside. He'd been charred to a crisp, but his wallet, having been thrown from the body, had taken only a few scrapes. Apparently a metal beam had fallen on it, protecting it.”

“What are the chances?” Heero murmured.

“Practically non-existent,” Quatre reported. “You think the murderer wanted us to know?”

“Well, if he did, it had worked. Apparently the gift-giver knew the man's true identity.”

“How?” Heero asked.

Trowa shook his head. “That I don't know. But apparently the warehouse man's name was Odin Lowe.”

Heero felt the world tilt. “Who?”

“Odin Lowe. You know him?”

His veritable father. Killed? How? Why?

“He was an undercover agent for the CIA. Apparently he'd been playing the part of an assassin when he'd been killed.”

CIA? That explained all those long trips – and more, why Odin's idea of a day out was going for sharpshooting practice or playing a more complicated version of hide-and-seek, in which you had to keep yourself from getting hit by Nerf bullets.

Odin Lowe had been killed? He'd been told it was an accident.

He stared at that warehouse and waited for the world to right itself.

“Lieutenant Yuy?”

“Heero?”

He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Yes, I knew him. He took me in.” Heero left it at that. “What about this last one? The church?”

Quatre shook his head. “That one we don't know. We've gone through everyone's files, thanks to Chief Fellur's permission, but we haven't found anyone with any connection to even the area around the church, let alone the church itself.”

“Isn't it odd,” Trowa murmured, “that four of these murders occurred to someone one of us four knew? Three of us are the highest-ranking members of this station, and could be the absolute leads if we wanted desk jobs. The other is the fastest-rising rookie since us three. And all these deaths occurred before we entered the force.”

“It's creepy,” Quatre muttered.

Trowa gave him a concerned look before turning to Heero again. “Well?”

Heero scanned the clippings. “What do these have to do with G.O.S.H, though?”

Quatre leaned forward. “Apparently the bodies had been burned to bones, but there were scratches on some bones that hinted at wounds inflicted before the burning. They were reported to be slashes.”

Heero looked up. “You've checked the files?”

Trowa shook his head. “Not yet. Look at this – it's the note left by the anonymous helper.”

Heero scanned it, then slowed down and reread it.

Sorry to bring back memories.

The victims were all burned beyond recognition, but some sort of identification was left. All had slash marks on their bones – hips, ribs, arms, skulls. These slash marks are thought to be knife wounds, but further examination would mean the destruction of the brittle bones. Continuation of each case was impossible.

It is not a coincidence that each of you joined the police, is it? It was for justice for Lieutenant Chang, peace for Lieutenant Yuy, 'the chance to earn your name' for Lieutenant Barton, and 'the hope for the future' for Sergeant Winner. Each of you were greatly influenced by the outcome of each scene, and chose to become a policeman to stop death from occurring again.

_Whoever the murderer is, they've effectively manipulated each of your lives._

_Good day._

It was typed and printed. An examination of ink and paper would be useless; Heero already knew who the person was.

“Shinigami,” he hissed. The man was mocking the police department, most possibly yucking it up in whatever crazy computer lab he had. His hands shook in fury.

Quatre's voice was startled. “How do you know?”

“The media tells the public that the police are picking their noses on this case, and now we get a note from someone who can hack not only into investigative files but the entry questions for this department, all of which is absolutely classified.” He turned to the two of them. “Did either of you feel manipulated when you joined this department?”

Quatre and Trowa both shook their heads.

“And Wufei would have my head for even asking,” Heero murmured. “But this Shinigami may have a point. But what about the last one? He said nothing about him.”

“He must not be on the force,” Trowa murmured. “Whoever he is, he may be the culprit, trying to get revenge for the deaths of-” Trowa looked at the clippings again. “Of Father Adam Maxwell, Sister Helen Marigold, and Sister Mary Ellsworth.”

“Perhaps,” Quatre noted, “but don't you think Shinigami would have pointed that out? It would be the ultimate rub if he found a suspect while the police were still completely clueless.”

Heero nodded. It was true enough. “Perhaps, but we can't rule it out. For now, it's all we have. Was there any information on J?”

“No. Nothing.”

“So he doesn't know anything, either.” Heero sat. “We'll begin with people around the area. See if they remember anything.”

“At least we're finally able to do something,” Quatre murmured.

“Let's just make sure that we don't need any more help,” Heero advised, and scowled. It rubbed him wrong to use the information given to him by Shinigami. Especially when he had no choice. And especially since he was determined to catch the man.

But for now, he couldn't spend his time worrying about it.

* * *

Duo practically crawled into work. He'd only gotten a few hours of sleep, having devoted the night to searching. He'd been disturbed by what he'd found.

He'd had to do an evaluation on himself. If he hadn't come home just that bit faster, if he'd come in loudly like he usually did, he wouldn't have had the time to catch those uniformed bastards beating Father Maxwell senseless. He remembered the encounter like it had happened yesterday.

The school day had been officially over – always something to celebrate. It was still odd sometimes, how he found himself thinking in terms of school days and school hours. Before, he never would have worried about such things. Now it seemed almost... normal.

Even more normal, he found, was the urge to sneak past one's guardians when one got a bad grade.

But really, who cared about English anyway? As long as you could speak it, what did you need to write it down for? It was stupid.

And besides, he'd never really had the chance to learn how to write, now had he?

He opened the door as quietly as possible, afraid that Father Maxwell or Sister Helen especially might find him. Father Maxwell would tell him all the importances of writing, and Sister Helen would do the same, plus some babble about God and stuff. He loved the both of them, really he did, but he didn't want to hear it just then.

But when he opened the door, no one was there. Some noises were coming from the chapel, angry yells and stomping feet. Sister Helen wailed.

They never did that.

Duo raced into the chapel room and froze in shock. A uniformed man, in dark blue, was screaming and kicking Father Maxwell while another watched. Father Maxwell was curled on the floor and bloody. Sister Helen was screaming at the men, telling them to leave.

“You better do as we say,” the abuser snarled. “Or there'll be more than one death here.”

“No! No, please, we've done nothing!” Sister Helen cried.

“Shut up, hag!” The watcher suddenly raised his fist to hit Sister Helen.

Duo ran out without thought, showing himself to the two men. “Stop!”

Sister Helen sent him a wild look. “Duo, what are you doing?! Get out of here!”

“Leave her alone!”

The men seemed frozen in shock. Duo glared at the both of them. They had no right to come in here and beat up a priest and nun. He didn't believe in God, but he did believe that that was wrong.

“Shit,” one muttered. “Back off, kid,” he said louder. “This is none of your business.”

“No! Get out!”

The men's fists clenched. “Hey, kid, these two owe us money. Got that? Ten thousand dollars, kid. So back off.”

“No!” Duo shook his head. He understood very well the importance of money. “I'll get it for you.”

The man snorted. “Right, brat.” He turned back to Sister Helen, who was helping Father Maxwell sit up. “Remember, bitch. You run, we'll find you. Just make sure the cute little innocents don't get in our way.” The man gave a pointed look to Duo before leading the other out of the house.

Duo rushed over to Father Maxwell as soon as the men were out of the church. “Father, are you okay?”

“Yes, Duo, I'm fine. Thank you.”

Sister Helen looked about to cry. “Don't worry, Sister Helen. I'll take care of it.”

“Oh, no, Duo,” she gasped. “Don't. It's fine, really-”

“Sister,” Father Maxwell interrupted. His voice was immeasurably sad. “We must think about others at all times.”

“Oh, Father.” And she started sobbing.

Duo was confused. “Hey, wait – where's Sister Mary?”

Sister Helen just cried all the harder.

“Now, Duo,” Father Maxwell turned to him. “You must promise me to live a good life.”

Duo just stared at him blankly. “Father?”

“We won't be around forever, Duo. When we die, you must promise me that you will live a good, honorable life.”

“But I don't want you to die.” Duo just sat there. What were they talking about? Were they sick too, just like Solo?

No, it wasn't that. It had to do with those men.

Duo firmed his resolve and spoke as bravely as he could. “Don't worry, Father. I won't let anything happen to you. I'll get the money, and then they'll go away, right?”

Father's eyes saddened more. “Duo, we cannot ask this of you.”

“You didn't,” Duo pointed out. Sister Helen just continued to cry into her shawl.

“Duo...” Father Maxwell sighed. “There's a way into the bank – a small hole, one neither of us can get into... and it's against God's laws...”

Duo, blinded by his fear of losing them, didn't question him. “I'm tiny. I could fit.”

“Yes. I know.” Father Maxwell's eyes were so sad, but Duo blamed it on having to go against the God he loved so much. “At eight o'clock tomorrow night, there will be no one there.”

“I'll go.” Duo nodded. “I'll make sure to get ten thousand dollars. You'll be okay.”

“Oh, Duo,” Sister Helen sobbed.

“Take care, Duo,” Father Maxwell said, and gifted Duo with one of his loving smiles.

It was the last he ever saw.

After that, Father Maxwell and Sister Helen went in for prayer. Duo had initially thought that it was because they were sending him to sin for their own safety, but he was wrong.

There hadn't been any openings into the bank.

Duo had his hands full that day with a flat tire and a check-up. He worked through the morning, then ate a late lunch of peanut butter and jelly.

He'd grown that day at 8:28 when he returned to find the church ablaze and Father Maxwell dead on the ground. Sister Mary had fallen from the ceiling where she'd been hidden, and Sister Helen had been slipping away.

“Oh, Duo,” she'd said with a smile, “I'm so happy I got to see you again.”

He'd sworn to live a good life, to live happy and whatever, and so he would. But he would never trust cops, the lying bastards who killed Father Maxwell and Sister Helen.

He leaned back. Now he had the chance to find their killer, as he'd never had before. This wasn't for the cops or Quatre Raberba Winner or money – it was for Father Maxwell and Sister Helen, who had known death was knocking on their door and made certain that they were the only ones home to answer it. For vengeance, for revenge. For the hope that he would no longer see Sister Helen's body in his mind whenever he tried to sleep.

“Father,” he murmured. He was standing randomly inside the garage doing nothing.

A car came up his drive, one he recognized immediately. He smiled at his regular and went out to meet him.

“Mr. Chang! Good to see you. Don't tell me you have another problem.”

“No, I don't think so, but my filter light's flashing, and I have to go out in a couple hours.”

“Well, that usually means that something's wrong...”

* * *

Heero asked around, but most hadn't been in the area for long. Most people moved out of the houses as quickly as possible. The area wasn't the safest in the city.

“Sorry, officer,” another woman said. “I've only been here a few months, and quite frankly I only plan to stay here a few more. This place isn't the safest ever, and I have kids.”

“Thanks anyway, ma'am.”

The nervous mother nodded. “You're welcome.” She took a quick look around and closed the door.

Heero sighed. No one seemed to know anything about the old church, if only because no one stayed around if they could help it.

“Looks like we'll have to come back at night,” Heero said with a sigh. He called the others and let them know his particular lack of results.

“Nothing here, either,” Quatre reported. “People don't seem to want to hang around here.”

“I can see why,” Trowa replied. “I got nothing, as well.”

“Me either,” O'Hara grumbled.

“The same,” Carlton reported. “What a bummer.”

“We still have the night,” Heero told them. “We can return then. This place has permanent residents, but none come out during the day.”

“Which street do you want?” Trowa asked. Heero knew that meant that he'd thought the same.

“The same. That goes for all of us. They're most likely sleeping now, and they won't recognize us until we're close, anyway.”

“Got it,” O'Hara said. “Hopefully we'll get luckier tonight.”

“Hn. For now, let's return to the precinct.”

“All right. See you there, Heero. Trowa, over and out.”

“Over and out.”

“Over and out.”

“Heero.” It was Quatre's voice.

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“Do you think another envelope will be waiting for us?”

Just the suggestion made Heero's teeth grind. “I won't assume either way.”

There was a brief silence. “I see. Thanks. Quatre, over and out.”

Heero signed off as well, then stood for a moment, thinking. Who was Shinigami? How had he gotten so much information about them? About the case? He was like a ghost, traversing through the net with an agility that baffled him. He was good with electronics. Great. Heero had also given an opening within the comp division when he first arrived. But he couldn't keep up with Shinigami. It was infuriating.

Well, in this case, the deaths had more than doubled, almost tripled. Eleven deaths, if Shinigami's findings were to be believed. That afternoon would be spent searching for the validity of the evidence, but Heero already knew it was true. Shinigami was a sly bastard, but he was never wrong.

“Hell,” Heero breathed, and returned to his car.

* * *

Duo waved Lieutenant Chang good-bye and closed down his shop. He'd had more than enough work for the day, and he had to keep up with the investigation. He had no doubt that the cops would be looking for someone who remembered the Maxwell Church fire, and he would eventually be tracked down. He needed to find more, solve the case, and get the attention off of him before that happened.

Lieutenant Chang said he had to leave soon, so he was almost through with his case on a narc gang on the far side of the city. The police had managed to solve that one on their own, bless their idiot souls. But they'd only been able to do it once Chang Wufei entered the case.

So Chang Wufei would return to the G.O.S.H. case, moving it along even faster. Duo grinned almost ferally. Things were getting interesting.


	3. The Little things Give You Away

Duo searched relentlessly, but there seemed to be no connection that he could find, no trace that he could follow. He worked into the night, through supper. He didn't bother trying to find anything else or working on some other crime. The money he'd gotten from the export would support him for a short time, and he wanted to crack this mystery. Never before had he been thwarted in any investigation that he'd attempted, and he didn't like being beaten.

“Damn, damn, damn.” He opened a window and checked the results of the copperheads so far. They hadn't gotten too far; they were checking back to speak with the prostitutes and pimps in another hour or so.

He knew at least one could very well remember him. It would only be a matter of time before even the stupidest cops met up with him.

He had only a couple more days, tops. He had to crack the case of the mystery men by then.

* * *

“All right, we're going back.” Heero strapped his two-way to his belt and turned to his team. “Wufei should be returning to us tomorrow, since his bust went off without a hitch. Let's give him something to do.”

Trowa smiled. “And leave it all to him?”

“To let him take the glory?” O'Hara scoffed. “He's gotten enough of that, I think.”

“In any case, this case is personal to most of us,” Quatre said quietly. “It's still a wonder that the Chief hasn't pulled us all off.”

“It's because you're the best,” Carlton said.

“If that's true, then let's earn this privilege,” Trowa remarked dryly.

“You all know your districts,” Heero told them all. “Get moving.”

“Sir.” And they all moved out to their cars.

* * *

Heero braked his car on the side of one of his streets. Three women stood on a corner, talking to each other and trying to look comfortable in the fall weather. He pulled to a stop and stepped out. With a quick assessment, all he could tell for certain was that they were two red-heads and a brunette, hardly dressed and already making cooing noises at him. He couldn't tell if they knew anything just by boring holes into them and wondering if he wasn't interested because they were hookers. They flirted with him initially as he came closer, but finally sobered when he pulled out his badge.

“Whaddaya want?” one red-head asked. Her hair was fuzzy and matted a bit in the back, curly. It fell just past her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep brown.

“I'd like to know about the Maxwell Church fire,” Heero said, cutting straight to the point.

“The church?” the other red-head repeated. “The hell? You people were here then, what're ya doin' here again fer?”

“We have a new lead. Can you tell me anything?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Lit the sky like a rocket. Ain't never seen nothin' like it 'fore. They say the priest got toasted. God didn't do much fer 'im, did 'e?”

“Was there anyone who survived?” Heero asked. “Any eye-witness accounts?”

“How the hell should we know? Do we look like we go ta church?” the other red-head put in.

Heero refrained from remarking. “What about you?” He turned to the brunette. Her eyes, like the first red-heads, were deep brown. But unlike her more fiery counterpart, her eyes were sharp and keen.

“You mean Dodger.”

“'Dodger?'” Heero turned his eyes full-force on her. “Who's that?”

“Dodger was the quickest damn rat in the gang,” she told him, then expanded at his faintly blank look. “A street rat, and a good one. He was a fine kid, always willin' to help ya out. Was one o' the few survivors, he was, and took up after Solo went 'n' died. The priest took him in after a steal went bad. 'Twas only a few months later that the church went up. Poor kid.” She shook her head.

“What happened then?” Heero persisted. Finally, finally he was getting somewhere. This kid could be the key to everything.

“Dunno. The kid disappeared.”

Shit. Of course he did. “What did he look like?”

“A girl,” the second red-head entered. “Right, Paisley? He was the one with the long hair and big eyes.”

“Yeah, 'at's 'im. I remember. That weasel stole from one o' my men once. Slick brat.” The fuzzy hooker spoke up.

“Yep,” Paisley said. “Last I saw, he was attendin' school with his hair in one o' them fancy braids.” She turned to Heero again. “He's a good kid, officer. If you hurt him, you ain't never gonna get anything from any o' us again.”

Hardly a threat, but it told him she meant what she said. If he brought up the question of the boy's violent tendencies, he'd be laughed off the block. He thanked the women and left.

The other women weren't as helpful as the first three, but all of them had only nice things to say about Dodger. None, however, had any clue as to where he may be. According to them, the kid might as well have been in the fire with the other three. Some even said he was, and that the useless cops - “sorry, officer,” - hadn't even found the “poor sap.”

Heero also found that none knew as much about the kid's past as Paisley had. He doubled back a few hours later to see if she was still available. He arrived at the corner, but the only one still there was the first hooker, the one with the fuzzy hair. The woman had hardly remembered Dodger at all. He would get no new information from her.

“Hey there, sugar! Back for some real action this time?” she called. He turned away and walked back to his car, not giving the woman a second thought.

As for Dodger, his thoughts were whirling.

Dodger had lived in the church, but his remains had never been found. Despite that, a young child with a background on the streets had managed to disappear like he'd never existed. How? To where?

The child had to have been scared. A sickness had left him in charge of a gang of homeless children, and then something went wrong and a priest took him in. Then his home was destroyed. This guy didn't have much luck.

Of course, one thing couldn't be ignored: if this child had known something about the murders, he may have been hunted down. The child may have been killed years ago. If that were the case, that would bring the death count up to twelve.

Heero grimaced. It was unforgivable that so many would die without the police knowing about it. Worse, the police would still not know if it weren't for Shinigami.

Dodger. The quickest rat, huh? Could he have been fast enough to escape his pursuers? Where would he go? How would he survive?

He called the others in. “There was a survivor,” he told them.

“Really?” O'Hara whooped. “Who?”

“I got something, too,” Quatre said. “Something about a child named 'Dodger.' As far as anyone knows, he didn't have an actual name.”

“Yes. I got the same.” Heero listed off what he'd learned. “Anyone else find anything?”

“No,” O'Hara piped.

“Nothing,” Carlton admitted.

“I didn't get a name or any information on the kid,” Trowa replied, “but a crackhead managed to tell me that he saw a kid running to the church. He said it was odd, because even the most devout Christians shouldn't want to enter a fire.”

“Definitely high,” O'Hara noted.

“Did the child leave?” Heero questioned.

“The man didn't know. He figured any idiot that would jump in a fire was asking for death.”

“Or trying to save someone,” Quatre said quietly.

“Most likely,” Heero affirmed. “Let's get to the station and get our notes together. In an hour, we'll meet in the second conference room.”

* * *

Duo glared at his monitor. The bastards! If it killed him, he would crack their identities. He _had_ to. The person behind this, whoever he was, had brought along the deaths of Father Maxwell, Sister Helen, and Sister Mary. He couldn't let the man get away.

“Slimy bastard,” he snarled. “I'll get you. I'll find you no matter what it takes!”

He looked up the information on the cops, but nothing new had been added into a report yet. Duo knew it was only a matter of time. He should go on the assumption that they knew a child survived. He'd chosen the name Duo Maxwell. It wouldn't be long until they found him. Tomorrow, most likely. Wufei would put it together.

He stifled a yawn and typed in a couple of new commands. He was at a standstill. What more could he do? He'd been hacking for years, ever since shortly after the fire. He knew his way around a computer, and if there was anything he'd learned, it was that there was always a back door. He just had to find it.

He worked through the night, taking catnaps when he felt his focus wane. When dawn broke through the sky, he was tired and frustrated, but he'd found a small break. On impulse, he ditched getting ready for work and dug in.

It was a practically non-existent hole, hidden behind layers and layers of back-tracking. One had to work _backwards_ to find it. It took him another hour and cost him a major cramp in his back, but he finally got the fucker open.

It was a small folder filled with nothing but codes. Duo hard-wired his computer seventeen ways until he was absolutely certain that its findings and contents were locked before putting up even more security on it. He was already paranoid security-wise, but leaving this alone rankled him. He wanted to get started on it, but that may be disastrous. He had to work full hours today, just in case Chang Wufei managed to link him to Dodger. He had to be extra cautious now.

He got up to get ready, hurrying through his usual rituals. He couldn't be late, despite being an hour behind schedule and bone-tired.

He'd worked on worse before.

* * *

Heero was to meet everyone within the third conference room that morning. Chang was pacing up and down like a caged panther. As soon as Heero walked in, Wufei turned to him.

“You mean to tell me some bastard murdered my sensei?”

Heero nodded. “And my foster father.”

Wufei punched his palm in a rare sign of agitation. “So this bastard has linked us somehow.”

“Yes.” Heero personally enjoyed Wufei as his partner not just because of the man's skill, but also because of the man's ability to think the same way Heero did. The two of them were often linking thoughts together without needing words. They were the perfect team.

“These notes on Dodger – why haven't they been sent in?” Wufei pointed to the notes everyone had made and gathered together the night before.

“I have reason to believe that Shinigami is watching this case.”

“The photos,” Wufei surmised. “Yes, I thought the same. You believe he's watching us.”

“Yes. And in case he has any personal involvement in this case, I want to keep things sealed as much as possible for as long as possible.”

“Yes. There would be no reason for him to become involved in this case if it weren't personal to him in some way.”

“That may not be true.”

Heero and Wufei turned to face Quatre, who was accompanied by Trowa. “What do you mean?” Heero asked.

Quatre couldn't meet his eyes. “We weren't getting anywhere,” he blurted finally. “I... I made an offer to Shinigami. I... asked for his help.”

“The hell?!” Wufei roared, but Trowa put up his hand.

“I agreed with his actions,” the green-eyed lieutenant said calmly. “We truly were getting nowhere, and Quatre's initiative has gotten us much farther on this case.”

“Shit.” Wufei cursed eloquently, voicing Heero's opinion on this matter, as well. “There's no way he would help cops. He's never helped before; in fact, he's made a point of not helping us.”

“I... I offered for the deal to only involve him and me. Not as a cop, but as a... buyer.”

“You _paid_?” Wufei gasped, aghast.

Quatre shrugged. “I had the money to spend, and it was off the record. I didn't hand out any information, either. Technically, it's by the books.”

“Technically, it's breaking the law,” Wufei muttered.

Heero reigned in his urge to yell at Quatre and moved toward their notes. “In any case, what's done is done. I still don't want our information leaked too quickly. For now, we keep our findings to ourselves. That includes keeping the Chief uninformed. Nothing leaves this room.”

“Isn't that a bit extreme?” Quatre asked.

“I want no leaks.” Heero shook his head. “The chief will immediately file a report, and that would mean that Shinigami immediately gets the information.”

“Um, something else.” Quatre raised his hand a bit, as if prepared to be called out in class and only half sure of the answer he was about to give. “I... I asked for his help again this morning. I haven't gotten any word, but-”

“You _what_?” Wufei seemed to turn red in front of Heero's very eyes. “What for?”

“Well, before, I had just asked for help on the case, but this time I asked for information on G.O.S.H. in particular. But I haven't gotten a response.”

“Why?” Heero asked for Wufei this time.

“Well, don't you think it odd that he only gave me a little information? Usually he gives out everything once the price has been named and paid. But he only gave me a little.”

“Did you ever think it's because you're a cop?” Wufei drawled sardonically.

O'Hara and Carlton strode in. “What?” O'Hara asked.

“We're discussing Shinigami,” Heero told them shortly. “Apparently Quatre contacted him.”

Quatre made a small movement then. He made an equally small sound, then turned to Trowa in concern. Heero waited for a moment to see if Quatre had anything to say. It took a minute, but Quatre finally replied to Wufei's sarcastic question. “It was an arrangement between two people, and though Shinigami may take the law into his own hands, he doesn't back out of an arrangement.”

“Hn.” Heero thought it over. “Can you contact him?”

“I go through a fan mail network, but Shinigami has rigged it to eventually make it to him.”

“I tried tracing it, but it lost me somewhere in the Dominican Republic,” Trowa told him.

“Damn,” Wufei murmured, his voice both angered and awed.

“Send him another message.”

“What should I say?” Quatre pulled out his phone.

“Ask him if the deal is over.”

“All ri- wait, I already have a reply from him.”

“What does it say?” Everyone in the room moved closer.

“Here.” Quatre handed Heero his phone. Heero took it and read.

_It's not over yet. You're on the wrong trail. As expected from cops._

“The hell?” Wufei read from over Heero's shoulder, one of two who could without inciting his irritation. “Arrogant bastard.”

“The wrong trail? Has he already found Dodger?” Trowa, the other who could safely read over Heero's shoulder, backed off and told O'Hara and Carlton what it said.

“'It's not over,'” Carlton repeated. “So Winner was right.”

“That's right, I suppose,” O'Hara agreed. “If we ignore to jibe to our profession, this guy's a few steps ahead, like a scout.”

“Why won't he tell us who Dodger is?” Wufei mused.

“Maybe it's because he doesn't think it's important to the case,” Quatre put in.

“Let's not assume anything.” Heero glanced at everyone in the room. “We'll find this Dodger person.”

“How? All we know is that he grew up on the streets with some rats whose leader was Solo and that he survived the Maxwell Church fire – and the second part's a 'maybe.'” O'Hara looked disparaged just thinking about it.

“Wait – it couldn't be,” Wufei spoke suddenly.

“What?” Heero barked.

“It's an extremely loose link,” Wufei started, but Heero just gave him a look that urged him to continue nonetheless. “Well, my mechanic-”

“Your mechanic?” O'Hara scoffed. “What the hell? You two chat about your cases?”

“No,” Wufei hissed. “His name is Duo Maxwell.”

Everything stilled suddenly, and the air became thick.

“You're fucking kidding me,” O'Hara guffawed. “What the hell kind of coincidence is that?”

“Some say such occurrences cannot be coincidence,” Trowa said with amusement.

“Let's check it out. O'Hara and Carlton, finalize these files, please, and put them in a secure location. Quatre, I'll need you and Trowa to look on-line, just in case, and see if you can crack anything, find anything. See if there's another bozo out there with a mysteriously perfect name.” Heero grabbed his coat.

Quatre's lips twitched. “Yes, sir.”

“Wufei?” But Wufei was already putting on his coat.

“Let's go,” he said tersely. “My car?”

“Fine.” He looked over his shoulder as he left. “Keep your two-ways on. Keep everyone posted, but don't give anything away. Remember that even the best frequency can be found.”

“Right.”

* * *

Duo wasn't the least bit surprised when he recognized the soft purr of Lieutenant Chang's car. He wiped his hands on a rag and spared a glance for the busted piece of junk old Mr. Romney had brought in. He was grateful to get away from it, at least.

He walked out with his usual grin in place. When Wufei opened his door and stepped out, Duo waved cheerily. “Come on, man, I just fixed it!” he called out with a grin. Wufei didn't smile.

Then another man stepped out from the passenger side, and Duo's breath hitched in his throat.

He knew instantly who the man was, knew from the pictures of him. He knew the man's name, age, and psych profile.

What he didn't know was that seeing Heero Yuy would make him go momentarily weak in the knees.

He cocked an eyebrow and hoped his girly reaction hadn't been picked up. “And you brought a friend?”

Heero flipped open his badge, then closed it. “We're with the police. We'd like to speak with you, if you have the time.”

No-nonsense, formal. Heero was all-business. That matched his profile, at least. Jesus. A head-shot just did not do the man justice.

He would freak over his reaction later.

“Police?” Duo looked over to Wufei, playing his part exactly. “You're a cop?” He turned back to Heero. “Hey, what the hell's going on?”

“We just want to ask you a few questions, Duo,” Wufei told him, trying to soothe.

“What for? I didn't see a car accident, I didn't screw with any of my customers. What do you want?”

“We'd like to ask you about the Maxwell Church fire.”

Duo had already figured out his best course of action. He let his eyes widen for a moment, let his nose flare. “What about it?”

“You know about it?” Heero asked.

“Are you kidding me? I used to live there.”

Both men sucked in a sharp breath. “You are 'Dodger?'” Wufei demanded.

Duo blinked, even as he inwardly applauded their deductive abilities. Any other cop would have taken forever to piece things together. And the hookers wouldn't talk to just anyone. Of course, if they were talking to two men like this, helping them out would have been like a hope for a business transaction. “The hell? I haven't been called that in years.” Duo looked around. “Look, can we come inside, please? I don't have thousands of customers, but I may still get company.”

“Of course.” They followed him inside and waited as he put up the closed sign before speaking to him again. “Can you tell us what happened that day?”

Duo always wondered why they bothered putting their requests into question format. There wasn't really a choice in answering or not. Being that polite was just stupidly pointless. Just another reason to not be fond of cops, he supposed. “The whole thing?”

“Yes. Was there anything strange that happened that day?” Heero questioned. God he was hot.

“No, but the day before? Hell yeah.” Duo rolled his shoulders as if remembering something that made him uneasy.

“Could you tell us?” Heero continued.

Duo paused for a split second. He knew how to fake out others. He was perfect at it. “I... guess. Some guys were at the church.”

“It's a church. That's not unusual,” Wufei pointed out.

Duo slanted the man a look. “I just thought it weird that they were beating up Father Maxwell, that's all.” He shook his head. “Look, this isn't gonna solve anything, is it? I mean, they've been... dead... for a while now. Why are you asking me this?”

“A new lead has re-opened the investigation,” Heero told him.

“A new lead? You mean to that arsonist?” Duo leaned forward. “You're finally gonna catch the bastard?”

“Do you know who he is?”

“The hell?” Duo shook his head. “If I'm your new lead, just close it. I only came back in time to watch the place burn. I tried to get in, but...” He shook his head again. “I didn't see anything. In court, watching some guys beat up the priest the day before doesn't actually mean anything.” At Wufei's slightly stunned look, Duo cracked a crooked smile. “I checked it out a few years ago, when I could finally understand that legal jargon crap.”

“How did you survive?” Wufei asked.

Well, well. Curious, were they? “I ran, of course. I found an old warehouse, not even used by pimps because of how many people died there once. People said they heard ghosts, but it was mostly because the place was literally falling apart piece by piece. I made my home there.”

“What did you do?”

Duo shrugged. “I did what Sister Helen would've wanted me to do – I went to school.”

“That's it?” Heero asked skeptically.

His voice was Heaven. Duo almost shivered. What the hell? “Yeah, pretty much. Kinda broke down, swore not to get too close to people... but yeah. Went to school, then quit after I graduated high school. I went under a fake name, didn't have any parents come in for Parent's Day or anything...”

“How did you survive?”

Duo had known this question would come up, and here he put his freedom on the line. He ran and hid, after all, but never lied. “I stole.”

Heero nodded, even as Wufei sputtered. “You could have gone to a shelter, or an orphanage.”

“I was a kid of the streets, born and technically raised. Relying on strangers wasn't in the code, and usually got you killed. Besides... I was scared. I thought I had the hand of death, you know?” He rolled his shoulders again, faltered and looked away.

“You thought it was your fault?” Heero spoke. The man was gorgeous, but his voice, as beautiful as it was, could turn to pure ice.

“Well, yeah. First Solo, then Father Maxwell and Sister Helen.” Duo shrugged and blushed faintly. “Yeah, I thought it was me. Like death followed me.”

“Like you were the God of Death?”

Duo almost grinned at the reference. Smart bastard. But if they were matching wits, Heero better not underestimate him. “Huh? Oh... I guess. But I saw it more as if I were cursed or something.”

Wufei shot Heero a sharp look. Apparently Wufei didn't approve of Heero's questioning. Heero shrugged almost imperceptibly. “These men who were in the church – what did they look like?”

Duo closed his eyes for a moment and let the memory wash in. Even he didn't notice the slight tensing of his muscles, the faint shudder that rippled through him. But Heero and Wufei did. “One was about five foot ten, the other taller. The taller one – a black mustache, black hair. The mustache was really thin, his lips big and wide. His eyes were kind of beady, his nose big. He had short, kind of stubby fingers, long legs. A bit on the heavy side, probably about two hundred pounds or so. The other was smaller, more wiry, with musician fingers and squinty brown eyes. His hair was light and buzzed off. He had a square jaw and thin lips. No facial hair. They were wearing long sleeves and pants, so I don't know about markings.” Duo opened his eyes and waited for the pictures to dissolve into the back of his head once again.

“Why didn't you tell the cops this information all those years ago?” Heero demanded.

Duo just shrugged. “I couldn't. If it were those two guys who burned the place, they'd seen me. My instinct was to run and hide, and I did. There was no point when I graduated; the case was long closed, unsolved. And I knew it wouldn't change anything. Remember? I read the lawyer jargon. I'd be laughed out of the station, wouldn't I?”

Wufei sighed. “I'm sorry to bring all this up, Maxwell.”

Duo shrugged and tried to give him a smile. Because he meant it to, it failed. “But you said you had a lead?”

“Maybe,” Wufei hedged. “I won't get your hopes up.”

Duo nodded. “I get that. All right. I... Is it possible for you to keep me up to tabs? Not step-by-step or anything, but... just whether you're getting close or something?”

“If we find anything concrete, we'll let you know,” Wufei assured him.

Duo knew that didn't mean anything, but he smiled in gratitude nonetheless. “Thank you.” Then he frowned. “Hey – are you gonna stop coming over when you have car trouble? I don't steal anymore. It was on a need-to-live basis only. And-” he smiled “-I was never convicted.”

Despite himself, Wufei's lips sought an upward path. “No, I'll continue coming to you. You're the best mechanic I've had, and the only honest one.”

“I run and hide, but I never lie,” Duo said with a small smile.

“Mr. Maxwell,” Heero interrupted, “we ask that you remain available for the foreseeable future, please.”

What part of the future was foreseeable? But Duo nodded. “I'm not leaving my shop any time soon. I like being able to pay the bills.”

Heero nodded. “Very well. We'll be in touch.”

“All right. And, hey – thank you. Even if you don't catch whoever-it-was... it's nice to know you haven't forgotten about them.”

“We don't forget,” Wufei said gravely. Duo met his gaze for a short time, then walked them out. He watched as they left. It was best to play as if involved but innocent. Now even if they pulled up his records, they would find no variation, because he'd spoken only the truth. The only thing he'd done was left out a few details, and those couldn't be found in any report.

He looked at his sign and sighed. Mr. Romney's car would have to wait. He needed to sleep, and he needed to plan his next course of action.

And he needed to get Lieutenant Yuy out of his head.


	4. One Step Closer

Smart. Duo Maxwell was damn smart.

He'd been surprised to see Heero, that was for sure. That sort of stunned reaction, that immediate tensing, that hesitation in his walking, hadn't been faked. But had he tensed because of an unexpected visitor, or because he was hiding something?

And Heero had gotten the impression that Duo Maxwell was hiding something.

Of course, he could just be making it all up to make himself feel better. The fact of the matter was that, while those hookers hadn't made him stand at attention, Duo Maxwell had. Now he had to reevaluate himself, and he had to do it in a few minutes before he entered the precinct.

The man certainly had long hair and big eyes, just as the second red-head had said. That chestnut mass had been pulled in a braid, just as Paisley had said.

And he'd been gorgeous – something Paisley and her two red goons had neglected to mention.

Heero forced thoughts of that out of his mind. First he had to find all those nuances that had made him suspicious.

“Devil's advocate,” Heero murmured. He knew Wufei understood; they'd often used each other for sounding boards, and would act as devil's advocate to fight off every observation as if they were against the theory. Whether they were or weren't wasn't the problem. And they were good at it.

“Shoot,” Wufei declared.

“He was surprised to see me, but he blew it off.”

“He didn't think I was social.”

Heero snorted. That, disturbingly, could very well be plausible. “He knew you that well?”

“He and I got to talking somewhere between 'the carburetor's busted' and 'if you fuck me over I'll sue.' I wouldn't call us friends, but we chat whenever I go over.”

Heero nodded at that. “For how long?”

“A couple years now.”

Plenty of time to make some observations and assumptions. Just because Heero refrained from making assumptions didn't mean the rest of the world did the same. “Is he good?”

“The best. I told you about him once.”

Heero couldn't remember that conversation, but he knew he would have turned down any offer anyway, because he fixed his own car most of the time. “He was initially unhappy to find we were cops, but he cooperated fully.”

“I'm an old customer, and I'd just shocked the hell out of him. Plus, we were there to follow up the case that may have haunted his nights. And if you're thinking about the way he stared at you, I have reason to believe the man is gay.”

“What?” Heero turned to his partner in shock.

“He doesn't say anything, but he watches. He's a good guy, Yuy.”

And here was where they may be stuck. “You trust him?”

“Odd, since he's a mechanic, but yes. The man has been nothing but honest with me in all these years. He didn't ever speak of his past, and now I know why. But he got wicked pissed when he heard about what my previous mechanic did, and because of the hassle, fixed my car up free-of-charge.”

Heero raised his eyebrows.

Wufei sighed. “If it was a marketing ploy, I would understand your skepticism. But it wasn't. I called him on it, and he got offended. Told me I could take it somewhere else and pay for it if I really wanted to.” Wufei smiled. “The man's good, Yuy. Why do you think he's Shinigami?”

Heero rolled his shoulders. “I got the vague sense that he was sizing me up.” Wufei quickly changed his chuckle to a cough. “And he doesn't like cops. I also just feel that.”

Both knew better than to make fun of one another's gut feelings. “Yuy, he grew up on the streets. And we never solved the case. Shinigami isn't the only one who hates cops.”

“I know that. Still, it's as Trowa said. Sometimes, coincidence becomes too outrageous to be coincidence. Both Duo Maxwell and Shinigami are deeply involved in this case, when before neither had been involved in any. Doesn't that strike you as odd?”

Wufei frowned. “Yes, I can't argue that, and it does bother me. But, Yuy, what the hell would Shinigami be doing working as a mechanic?”

Heero grimaced. “That's the question, isn't it?”

He turned and looked out the window. “In the end, I still don't know. Something bugs me.”

“You mean the fact that you stared back?” Wufei asked cautiously.

Heero practically jumped. “ _What?_ ” He swiveled back to Wufei.

“I'm not blind, Yuy. Just quiet.” He glanced at Heero. “Just know I don't give a damn.”

Heero blinked for a moment, then nodded in solemn gratitude. “Thank you, my friend.”

Wufei smiled softly. “I just don't want to hear about it.”

Heero smiled too, and let his shoulders relax.

* * *

Duo awoke late that afternoon, into the evening. He stretched, then plopped back onto the bed. His mind had switched back and forth all night, waffling between Sister Helen's bloody face and Heero Yuy.

He'd seen the man's picture and hadn't thought much of it. His face had seemed handsome enough, but there was only so much a pretty face could get you, and it usually came with some seriously large thighs.

But not this guy. This man was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. Wasn't it just a kick that the man was not only a guy, but a cop, as well? Duo might as well declare celibacy and avoid all the damn trouble.

Duo raised his hand and ticked off the pros. “He's hot. He's smart. He's clever. He's intuitive.” Then he listed the cons. “He's a cop. He's strict, black and white. He's probably got a humor deficiency, because he's no-nonsense. He's a hard-ass.”

Duo sighed. “Hell, in the end, what do I really know about him? Psych profiles only dig so deep. He's organized and he believes in peace through justice or some equally righteous shit. And he's just as hip-deep in shit right now as I am.” Duo blew out a breath. “And he's hot. For a guy, he is outrageously hot. Hell, for any human, male _or_ female, he is top of the charts.”

Duo sat up. “It doesn't matter that I'm gay, right, Father?” he whispered. “It doesn't matter. It doesn't change who I am. I'm still living a good, honorable life as I am... right?”

He hugged his knees and wished he could get an answer.

* * *

Heero rose from his mountain of notes to find most lights in the station off. Wufei had returned to the desk across from him and was currently digging through his files for something. “What are you looking for?” Heero asked him.

Wufei looked up, seeming vaguely surprised to be hearing his voice. “Just one particular sentence. You wrote it all verbatim, didn't you?”

Heero nodded. “Of course.”

“Well, Paisley said that Duo was 'one of the few survivors.' What does she mean?”

Heero nodded. “Yes, I wondered that, as well.”

Wufei scowled. “But of course you already know the information.”

Heero nodded affirmation again. “It was an epidemic, some string of pneumonia. It was winter, and they were kids. Not many survived.”

“No wonder he thought he was cursed,” Wufei murmured sympathetically. “Everyone around him fell while he stayed healthy. Any child would feel the same.”

Heero had to agree. “Yes. Still...”

Wufei sighed. “I understand. Don't believe anything either way until there's evidence.” He jotted down something on a piece of scrap paper and looked back to Heero. “On a completely separate note, we haven't gotten any further in the investigation on G.O.S.H.'s true identities. We're once again at a standstill. And we both know the murderer won't wait for us to figure it out.”

Heero knew that all too well. “Neither Trowa nor Quatre are fools with a computer.”

“But they aren't as good as Shinigami,” Wufei pointed out.

Heero lifted a brow. “You _want_ to work with him?”

Wufei scowled. “No. But I _do_ want this solved, for my master and for everyone else who was murdered. Besides, Duo may be my mechanic, but...”

“I thought you said he couldn't be called a friend,” Heero said, repeating Wufei's earlier words.

“That would be because it's based off a business arrangement.”

“So are we,” Heero pointed out.

“That's different. We're partners. He-”

“Fixes your car while you pay him to.” Heero shook his head. “Why not just learn to fix it yourself?”

Wufei sniffed. “No, thank you.”

Heero smiled. Wufei just didn't like admitting that there was something even he couldn't master. “I see. But you still consider him someone important?”

“He is...”

“A friend,” Heero clarified, because Wufei seemed to be having trouble putting it down to stare him in the face.

Wufei gave a gusty sigh. “I have no idea how he did it,” he admitted.

Heero shifted uneasily. Not only was he questioning the innocence of a friend of a friend, he himself was dangerously close to being interested in the braided man, himself.

“He's a criminal, and he didn't bother to try to lie about it,” Wufei continued.

“He did say that he runs and hides but never lies.”

“It's like his motto,” Wufei scoffed. “Still, the man has never lied to me. Not once... though obviously he never told me anything about his past.”

Heero frowned, but he had to shrug. “And you didn't tell him you were a cop.”

Wufei quirked a grin. “True.”

Heero sat back in his chair. “So we know G.O.S.H. is related to the five of us somehow, and four of us came to work in this precinct, in this particular department.”

“Such occurrences cannot be coincidence?” Wufei asked drolly, referring to Trowa's opinion on the matter.

“Why didn't Duo do the same?” Heero wondered aloud. “We all joined believing we were doing it for ourselves. I personally wouldn't feel right in any other job.”

“Same here,” Wufei said. “But we were manipulated into these posts nonetheless. If we go on an assumption, it should be that.”

“Agreed,” Heero said shortly. “But who would want us here?”

“The chief,” Wufei said immediately, his tone rueful.

Heero nodded. “He's first on my list.”

Wufei jerked in shock. “You mean to tell me you're seriously questioning – shit, Heero, do you know what you're...” He cut himself off. “Of course you do.” He sighed, then leaned back and thought about it. “Jesus... you're right. Should we bring up his files?”

Heero snorted softly. “We'd be caught immediately. We're monitored at all times, after all.”

Wufei hesitated for a long time.

“Yes, I realize that we can enlist Shinigami's help again, but doing so rubs me the wrong way. I won't do it. Not yet, anyway.”

“Then what do we do?”

Heero grimaced. “We can only do so much through these channels. For now, I've been trying to see if there's any secret meaning in Chief Fellur's name.”

Wufei nodded. “All right. Rome Edgar Fellur. Ref, like referee? No, that wasn't in the others. Rome... the city?”

Heero shrugged. “I have no idea. There's no one named that. The only thing useful I've found is that R, E, and F, when placed numerically, equal 9.67 – ten, the same number that fits with J.”

Wufei leaned forward. “Really? How'd you get that?”

Heero shrugged. “The only one of the four original victims with a middle name was Carl Jay – the only one that had given us any sort of clue. I followed up on it – Carl Kurt Jay.”

“Obviously chosen, or else the mother and father were deaf,” Wufei nodded. “You're right – they all equal out to 'H.'” Wufei whistled. “Well, he fits that bill. But then again, many probably do.”

Heero nodded. “Exactly. In the end, this tells me nothing. And it isn't even exact, unlike Carl Jay's.”

Wufei thought for a moment. “Still...”

“We can't rule it either way,” Heero finished for him. “For now, we'll have to keep our eyes out for him.”

“Got it.”

* * *

It took two hours to decrypt the message, and then he growled in agitation.

_J has the answer._

It took him only a moment to understand that the message pertained to the victims' code numbers.

He wanted to scream. In the end, what he was being told was that there was absolutely no way for him to know anything until J was killed. Unless...

He gave the message another, closer look. J has the answer. Carl Jay...

Duo bit his lip in thought. Could it be? Carl _Kurt_ Jay... Of course he'd already found that CKJ equaled H... _J has the answer._ It could be so very simple – so very curt. J has the answer – J is in a position of power. And his initials equaled J, and his name was everything Duo was looking for.

“Son of a bitch,” he breathed.

* * *

Heero packed his files into his briefcase and stood to leave. He wasn't surprised to see Trowa standing in the doorway, waiting for him, and spoke before the uni-banged lieutenant could. “I don't hold it against him.”

Trowa nodded. “Thank you.”

Heero frowned. “You know how I feel about Shinigami, but unfortunately, we are at a stand-still. We've already come a lot farther with his help than we would have without it.”

Trowa nodded. “He'd be the perfect fifth to our team, wouldn't he? Quatre, the charmer, Wufei the warrior, me the shape-shifter, and you the leader. He can disappear and appear whenever he wants, wherever he wants.”

Heero disliked it, but had to agree. “It's a shame he didn't join.”

“Then again, he's able to work more fluidly than us,” Trowa pointed out. “The one person who isn't where the murderer wants him.”

Heero didn't like that, either. Especially since it once again pointed to Duo Maxwell. “Yes.”

“Do you think that may become a problem?”

Heero thought about it. “It could be good, as well. The perp may want to come after him in some way, not to hurt, but to manipulate.” Just as he may want to use Duo Maxwell. It all fit together as the two being one and the same.

Trowa seemed to follow Heero's thinking. “Should we leave a watch on him?” Trowa asked.

Heero knew Trowa had switched the topic to Duo Maxwell. “That would be best.” Still, Heero was uneasy, and he couldn't put his finger on exactly why. It made him slightly edgy. “I'll go check on him for tonight, then we'll put a man on him – Carlton.”

“May I ask why him?”

“Because I need you, Wufei, and Quatre here, and O'Hara and Duo Maxwell would get too close too quickly.”

“Wufei told me that you had suspicions.”

“Suspicions, and nothing more. Still, I'd feel better knowing we're watching him as a suspect, as well.”

“I understand.” Trowa nodded shortly and walked out.

Heero was left standing there in the small room he shared with Wufei gazing at Trowa's retreating back. He had no idea why he'd offered to go check on Duo Maxwell on his own, and less understanding of why he had to think of the man as Duo Maxwell just to refrain from the intimacy of thinking of him on a first-name basis.

He was interested. Heero was honest enough to admit it when it was screaming in his face. It would be a bit difficult to pretend that gut-clenching reaction hadn't occurred. Worse, it would be stupid to. Still, worse yet was to let the interest take root inside of him when the man he was interested in was a suspect in a murder case.

It wasn't like him to allow these sorts of emotions to roost themselves inside him. He was a second away from making a move based on these emotions. He may believe following one's emotions was the best way to live, but he also believed that emotions had no place in investigations. He was making a huge mistake by going alone at night to see Mr. Duo Maxwell.

“Hell.” He'd already made his first big mistake – offering. There was now no one else to do it. He had to. And it was his job.

If he thought of it as a job, he would be fine...

Right?

* * *

Duo was glaring at his phone and wishing he didn't have to send a half-assed e-mail when he was so very close to getting the answers he needed. And of course it was just then that he heard a knock at his door. Quickly he put his system through shut-down and called out, “one minute!”

Who the hell was at his door at this hour? Hilde had called to say she'd be out of town for a few days. That left-

He grimaced. The cops.

His computer clicked through its security checks and finally logged off. Duo checked himself. He was still in his pajamas from hours ago, his hair still rumpled. He quickly took it out and re-did it, thinking about a specific brown-haired cop. He glared at the wall in disgust. What the hell was he doing?

He walked down to the door while still braiding his hair, calling himself ten times the idiot.

But when he opened the door, it was to the deep blue eyes of Lieutenant Heero Yuy.


	5. Crawling

Duo just stood there, his door open to the cool fall wind. His hands were trapped where they were; one was holding his hair while the other held the doorknob.

Heero's hair was even messier than usual, as if he'd been raking his fingers through it. His shirt was a bit rumpled, but still immaculate for the hour. His gaze was still sharp and penetrating, still that piercing cobalt.

He felt a flutter in his stomach.

“Oh! Lieutenant Yuy, right?” Duo didn't move to let the man in. He had to remember himself – he couldn't afford to slip up. It was no secret, after all, that the police wanted Shinigami as desperately as they wanted the murderer.

“Yes.”

Man of many words, he was. “Uh-huh. Is there something you want?” Oh, shit. That had a hidden message. And not just sexual.

“Mr. Maxwell, there is a question about your safety.”

“My safety?” Duo repeated. He stood still as a stone, gripped the doorknob tighter. “What do you mean?”

“Mr. Maxwell...” Here the lieutenant hesitated. “We have reason to suspect the perpetrator to have an unresolved issue with you.”

 _Yeah, no shit?_ Duo thought, but only said, “Issue?”

“Yes. May I come inside?”

“Yeah, sure.” He let go of the door to gesture vaguely indoors. He backed up as the man entered and caught a quick whiff of the man's skin. The scent, completely unadorned, made his gut clench. He carefully shut the door; the room was gaining a distinct chill. Or maybe it was getting a bit too stuffy. “What do you mean, 'issue'? Am I in some sort of danger?”

“We don't know.” The man made a brief survey of Duo's living room. Duo took the chance to finish braiding his hair. He felt distinctly uncomfortable with the man so near – and in his house. His thoughts flicked to his computer.

“What do you mean?” he repeated. “Don't know? Why would someone be after _me_?”

The man turned back to Duo, piercing him with those hard eyes. Duo wondered if the man even knew what a smile was. “That is confidential.”

Duo huffed and stuffed his hands on his hips. “You're telling me I could 'be in danger' and then you're gonna tell me I can't know why?”

“Yes.”

Duo threw his arms up in the air. “Great. Fucking great.” He glared at the man. “What kind of danger am I in?”

“We're placing you in protective custody.”

Well, then. The police were truly concerned. “My ass you are,” he said lightly. “I've read the books, remember? You can't force someone into protective custody.”

“Mr. Maxwell, it would be in your best interest-”

“No! Absolutely not. I finally have a stable life, you know? I won't let you take that from me.” He turned decidedly away. “Now, do you want a drink?”

There was no sound when suddenly Duo's wrist was caught in a vice-like grip. Duo turned in shock to face straight into those dark blue orbs. “Mr. Maxwell, I'm afraid you do not understand the severity of your predicament.”

“Yeah, you're right,” Duo snapped irritably. “I don't – because you won't tell me!”

“It's confidential,” he said stubbornly.

Yeah. Yeah, it was. Whatever leads they may have gotten, they weren't reporting them to their superior. Apparently Yuy didn't want Shinigami's help. “Fine. Then don't expect me to cooperate.” He tugged his hand free and walked into the kitchen. He needed a drink.

Lieutenant Yuy growled something unintelligible and followed. “Mr. Maxwell-”

“For Jesus Christ, you're in my house being offered a drink. Take the stick out of your ass and call me Duo. _Duo._ Okay?” He flipped the man a cocked brow before turning back to his fridge. Something about the man set off all sorts of walls around him. He was edgy and uncomfortable and he didn't like it. It was similar to being checked out by a pimp – absolutely horrifying.

“ _Mr. Maxwell,_ ” the man stressed, and Duo swore to God it was only to irritate him, “it is very important that you-”

He snatched a beer from his fridge and popped off the lid, taking a healthy gulp. He smacked his lips and glared at Heero. “I'm not going into protective custody. Why should I? I have nothing to worry about. If those guys want a piece of me, I'm ready.” A strange glint flickered in his eyes, then was gone. He smiled. “Or at least I hope so.”

Heero wasn't impressed. “'Those guys,' as you put it, are not your main concern.”

Duo let his beer crash down on the counter with a thunk. “Then what is?!”

Heero didn't even flinch. _Smooth._ Heero was smooth as silk. He thought of the ethnicity written on Lieutenant Yuy's files and smiled at his unknowing pun. The man seemed like a samurai, with that rigid stance and that dead face. How did those eyes, so cold and emotionless, call to him?

Heero shook his head. “I cannot tell you.”

Duo huffed again. “Fine.” He turned away and grabbed up his drink again. “If that's all you came here for, then you're done. Leave.” Damn, but he couldn't act nice right now. Maybe if he stopped gazing into those eyes...

Heero hesitated.

Duo made a concerted effort to not throw his beer against the wall. Carefully he took another sip. “So that's how it is,” he murmured. “You're the one with baby-sitting duty, huh? You trying to weasel your way out?”

Heero grunted. Duo figured the man hadn't expected someone to figure it out. He would have to be more careful.

“Yes. I wanted to keep an eye on you.”

It would have sounded suggestive if it weren't for the tightened steel sound of Heero's voice. Duo turned back to him and placed his beer back down. This wasn't good. “What do you mean?” He stiffened. “Me? You think _I_ killed Father Maxwell and Sister Helen and Sister Mary? You bastard!” His fists had clenched hard enough for the nails to bite.

Heero's eyes altered for just one second, momentarily stopping Duo's heart. Sympathy? Regret? “No, Mr. Maxwell, that's not the case.”

“Then what?!” Duo raked hands through his hair, truly exasperated and frustrated. “What do you want from me?”

Heero jerked a bit at that one. “I will be staying.”

Duo looked at him with a snap. “You'll _what_?” The hell he was having this man in his house! He could hardly breathe as it was!

“In my car.” Heero nodded his head toward the door.

Duo instantly felt bad. “Hey, man, that's not necessary. You can stay in here.”

Heero shook his head. “No. It's better if I stay outside.”

Duo frowned, playing dumb. “It's gotta be uncomfortable. Why can't you just come in?”

Heero's eyes hardened again. It was almost as if he saw beyond Duo's facade into his heart. “It's inefficient,” was all he said. He bowed slightly. “I'll be leaving.”

Duo stopped him before he got to the door, grabbing his shoulder. “Wait – I mean,” he chuckled nervously, “hey – rest easy, okay? And call me if you need anything... or want anything.” He bit his lip. Shit, that had some serious connotations. He wasn't ready for them. Not yet. Not... not with this man. “I mean it. If you're going to be doing this...”

Heero nodded, but said nothing. With practiced grace, he took his leave.

Duo stood staring at the door, still seeing the man's body, still smelling his skin. He clenched his right hand. He could still feel the sinew of those muscles. “Jesus,” he whispered. This was bad.

With a shudder, he turned away and turned off the lights. He needed to get upstairs and work. Now.

* * *

It wasn't unusual for a man to be awake for a long period of time after he was told he had someone after him, but this was ridiculous. Heero looked at his watch again, frowning. It was past two in the morning. The man hadn't moved from one room since Heero had left him. The light burned through the night like a beacon.

He couldn't help but think on how the man had seen Heero's responsibilities, then hadn't understood why he needed to be outdoors, where he could see more of the house and surrounding neighborhood. Either the man had a split personality, or he was hiding something.

And despite the fact that Duo Maxwell confessed to disliking cops, he still offered his home to Heero. Sure, he'd been defensive and stand-offish, but in truth, that, too, could be expected. He was told he was in danger, but not by what or who. Heero wouldn't be able to stand it.

But still... still, something nagged at him, pushing his instincts screaming to the surface. There was more here than they could see. More to that man.

He closed his eyes and rested his head. What was it about that man? What was he hiding?

And more, why was it _him_ that had awakened his long-dead interest? What was it about Duo Maxwell that made his chest burn? When he'd felt that smooth skin beneath his hand...

He shook the thoughts off. This was bad. The man was a target by their perp and a suspect in the identity of another. Bad. Impossible. He wasn't one to care for the enemy. He didn't allow it. After all, if he did, it could mean his death. But still...

Gay? Not once had he ever thought that he would be homosexual. Sure, he wasn't interested in women, but he'd never really been interested in men, either. Wufei and Trowa were handsome. Why had he never looked twice at them?

But he hadn't, and now he did, and he wasn't one to mope or fight what was clearly the truth. He would learn to work with his new... interests. And he would not let them interfere with this case.

* * *

Duo cursed.

He had all the information he needed – he knew who J was. He knew exactly who the man was. But if he leaked the information to the cops, they might very well defend the bastard. He would have to take care of this on his own. Which was bad, since he always worked in the shadows, never showing his face. How the hell could he protect himself if he showed himself to the Chief of Police?

Jesus. Chief Rome E. Fellur – Romefeller. The Romefeller Foundation – _J holds the answer._ This was it. R, E, and F equaled out to J. So the Romefeller Foundation was behind all of this. But how? And why? Worse... it seemed that J himself had been the one to kill...

To kill Sister Helen and Father Maxwell and Sister Mary. Dammit. It was him. Duo wanted more than anything to run over to the bastard's house and kill him in his sleep. The desire for vengeance was so great it left a burning, acrid taste in his mouth. He wanted to kill him.

But if he did, nothing would be solved. Romefeller was now after something, too. What? And why were they killing these men? Why? What the hell should he do? He couldn't tell the police. He sure as fuck couldn't afford to throw himself out there, alone, and show himself for who he was. There were a lot of people who wanted to kill him. He couldn't give those people a face or name. He'd be dead in a week.

Rome E. Fellur. What the fuck was he supposed to do with the man?

Then again... Duo felt vaguely sick at the thought. What if he did nothing? What if he _let_ Romefeller kill J? He sat back and closed his eyes. That, too, was cold-blooded murder. If he just sat back and did nothing as J died... he would be no better than the killers themselves. He was a vigilante, a delinquent, a pickpocket, a street rat, and a thief. But he was not a killer.

He sighed. He needed to sleep – he had to work tomorrow. And he was probably beginning to seem suspicious, staying up so late. He closed down his system and stood. He would worry about it all later.

God. What the hell was he going to do?

He shook his head. No, he wouldn't think about it. He needed to sleep-

And, for the first time in five full minutes, Lieutenant Heero Yuy entered his mind. The man's crazy brown hair, his piercing eyes, his thin lips, his built tan. The bastard wormed his way into Duo's conscious thoughts far too often.

He _couldn't_ be interested in this man. He couldn't afford to be. He was a cop. A cop! The man wanted him arrested. He was also the most suspicious of him. Lieutenant Heero Yuy was a threat to his peaceful life.

He wouldn't let anyone fuck him over.

Hell, he wasn't doing anything illegal – he knew, after all. He'd read the damn books. He was giving bad guys over to the cops, and he was getting paid by those being victimized. The cops would say like a mercenary. He would say like a private investigator.

He turned off the light and walked to the bathroom. The hall was dark, since he didn't feel like turning the light on, only to turn it off again. There was no point in it, and it wasted pennies.

Heero Yuy would have to just get the hell out of his head. Duo was a grown, able man. Surely he could deal with an unnaturally strong attraction to a man he didn't like.

He flicked on the light to the bathroom with determination jerking his nerves.

A painting smeared his bathroom wall.

With a cry of rage and anguish, he stepped forward to rip it down.

 _No._ He stopped on another cry, his eyes trapped on that picture. He gripped the doorjam hard enough to splinter it. It was a crime scene. He shouldn't go inside.

Whoever did the graffiti could paint. And they knew what Sister Helen and Father Maxwell had looked like.

It was a picture, all in red, of their butchered carcasses.

His last cry was of pure anguish, as he pushed himself away from the bathroom. He wrenched his eyes away from the sight and, without thought, without planning, tore himself down the stairs and out the door.

He recognized Yuy's car immediately, being as it was a cop car. He raced towards it.

Heero had begun getting out as soon as he'd seen Duo running out of the house in a mad panic, and was outside the car. Duo launched himself at the man and gripped him in a vice-like hug.

“Mr. Maxwell-”

“No, please, just shut up a minute.” Duo desperately tried to get his breathing to steady. He only then noticed the tears streaming down his face. “Oh my God. Oh my God.” And he sobbed.

Later, he promised himself. Later he would hate himself for this.

“Mr. Maxwell... Duo.” Heero carefully put his hands around the man. Was Heero shaking, or himself? He couldn't tell. He couldn't care. “What happened?”

“Can't,” he whispered, holding the man's uniform in his fists. He'd always hated the copperheads' uniforms, but now... somehow, with this firm chest beneath it, Duo found solace in it. He sobbed again, then quieted himself. No noise. Noise was dangerous.

But God... God.

His knees shook beneath him, and Heero ended up having to carefully sit them both on their knees. “Duo-”

“Minute. Minute.” He managed to breathe deeply a few times, and his voice got marginally stronger. He almost felt like he could speak a sentence. He kept his eyes wide open, hardly daring to blink. But the image was already branded into his brain. Again. Vying for attention with the true picture.

Heero stayed silent then, seeming to accept Duo's need, though Duo could feel the tension in the man's body.

“Dammit,” Duo muttered. “I haven't cried in years.”

Heero was silent at that, as well, not saying anything. Letting Duo get his control back.

“I...” He tried, then had to swallow and try again. “I don't know how long it was there. I haven't used the upstairs bathroom since... since... I don't know when. Shortly after I got back from work. I... I had left for an hour to... to get groceries... that couldn't have been put up in an hour, right?” It had been too detailed.

If anything, Heero got even stiffer. “What, Duo?” His voice was suddenly much gentler. Maybe because Duo seemed about to break apart into tiny little pieces.

“Picture... someone painted a picture.” He had to take one more breath, and hold it. “Of... of the fire.”

Heero seemed to instantly understand. “Do you want to stay here?”

Yes. “No. I'll come.” He wouldn't be a coward – he had to fight this.

After all, he knew what it was – J was telling him to join with the other policemen, Heero and Wufei and Trowa and Quatre. It was a call for a united front.

Had J chosen them to defeat the Romefeller Foundation? Was that what this was about?

He wouldn't be forgiven. No matter what his intentions.

Heero led the way back to Duo's house, though Duo tried to be brave and take the front. Heero wouldn't allow it.

“I... I didn't step inside,” Duo said softly as Heero opened the door.

Heero grunted, then paused for a second. He turned back to Duo. Those eyes were still just as assessing as before, but now they seemed to be looking at him somewhat differently. “I understand.”

He did, Duo realized. Just like that, Heero had placed himself in Duo's position, wondering what he would have felt and done if he'd seen, say, Lowe's picture splattered on a wall in his home.

Duo just nodded, and they continued inside and up the stairs.

Duo was glad that he'd shut the door to his computer room – he didn't want Heero to see Duo's massive computing equipment. They passed the computer room, then the next room on the left – Duo's bedroom. The bathroom was still lit, the door hanging open. In the still darkness, it took on an air of malice.

“You should stay here,” Heero cautioned, but Duo didn't listen.

He wouldn't hang back and let that bastard fuck with him. He wouldn't cower in fear.

No. The terror was past, just as the killings were past. There was nothing to be changed – so there was nothing to fear.

He stared at that picture. It was detailed. To a fault. Every single cut and wrinkle in Sister Helen's habit, every single crinkle in Father Maxwell's skin. The picture started at the floor, with burning pieces of timber, and ended touching the ceiling, with the ceiling of the church crumbling slowly to the ground.

Now that Duo looked closely, there was something wrong. “Those boards had still been intact,” he murmured quietly as Heero studied the painting. Heero looked at him sharply, then turned back to the painting.

“Which?”

Duo pointed, though Heero wasn't looking at him. “Those, on the left. The two lying criss-crossed on-top one another. They were still standing. And the right side of the church had begun to fall. And Father Maxwell's cloak had been caught on down at the end.”

“So this isn't that exact moment you'd been there.”

“I don't think the man knew what the fire looked like,” Duo explained. “But... he definitely knew what the bodies looked like.”

He'd left out Sister Mary. Because he and the Sister hadn't really gotten along? Or because he'd just run out of time?

“Something else I don't think he knew,” Duo continued. “Sister Helen... had still been alive.”

This time when Heero turned to him, he didn't look back to the picture. “She was still alive?”

Duo nodded. “She stayed alive just long enough to plead for me to live a good life, and to say that she was glad I was safe.” He didn't cry now. These tears he had already shed. “Then she died.”

Heero cursed resoundly. “The rest of us... were not there when the deaths occurred. Would you have joined the police force if you hadn't witnessed this?” Duo shrugged, but Heero had already shaken his head. “No, nevermind.” And he raked a hand through his hair.

“Does... does that matter? That I'm... not a cop?”

Heero's eyes twitched for a second. “Maybe.”

Duo huffed, even as he carefully kept his eyes away from the painting. “Fine. Lemme guess – 'it's confidential.'”

Heero hummed what could be termed an agreement. He took another look at the painting. “Then that's the way you found them?”

Duo forced himself to look again, to study it. Sister Helen was turned slightly toward Father Maxwell, as if she'd been trying to get to him. Father Maxwell's arm reached out for Sister Helen. He was lying flat on his stomach, Sister Helen the opposite, on her back.

“Yes.”

Heero nodded. “I'm going to call in Wufei. Is that all right?”

Duo wondered why he'd chosen Wufei. Were the man's skills needed, or was the relationship between the two what precipitated Heero's decision?

Duo only nodded and went back down the stairs. His legs gave out at the bottom, and he let himself fall onto the last step, managing to sit and not stumble down to the landing. He put his face in his hands and tried to regain control.

He'd faltered. Hell, he'd broken. He'd run from his own house and jumped into the arms of the most dangerous man to be near. Heero Yuy. _Lieutenant_ Heero Yuy. Somewhere in there, Duo had forgotten that one very important label.

Enemy. The man was an enemy.

Duo was tired of having enemies.

He continued to sit there, unable to see anything but the past, until the doorbell rang. He looked up hollowly. Wufei was here. Wufei would lead him away while cops came into his house. They would search all the rooms, and they would find his computer system. They wouldn't find anything on it, but just its existence would deepen Heero Yuy's suspicions of him.

For now, he couldn't work himself up to caring. He would later. He would fix everything later. Later.

He would have the strength later.


	6. No Roads Left

Wufei said nothing. What could be said? His friend had just been targeted by someone. J? The killer? Or was it one of those two men Duo had spoken of?

Duo was very quiet, very still. It was so very unlike him. Usually he was full of cheer, no matter what. Sometimes the cheer was forced, but it was always there. Now, though... nothing. He seemed to be brittle now. Wufei had brought the man to his own house, a rare privilege that, if Duo was in his right mind, would most likely be understood and appreciated.

When Duo returned to his right mind, he would be ashamed of his actions.

Heero had told him, over the phone, about what had occurred. Because of his close association with Heero, he had heard the tension, anger and concern in the man's voice. Duo, he'd said, had reacted badly. That, Wufei translated, meant Duo had reacted horrifically. Heero wanted him down to take a look at the graffiti'd wall and to take care of Duo while his house was checked.

Wufei had immediately agreed.

Duo hadn't fought, only mumbled a short apology before falling into deep silence. Shock? No, not quite, but close. He seemed to be haunted by ghosts of the past.

And why not? Wufei thought angrily. Whoever it had been, Heero had told him that the person had known the state of the two victims almost to a T. Who, when entering a part of their home, wouldn't be shocked to find a horror of their past plastered on the wall? He couldn't imagine going into his bathroom and finding a blood-red mural of his sensei's death splayed before him.

It was sick. Wufei would make certain whoever did it paid.

“Duo?” he called softly. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

Duo just barely shook his head.

Wufei thought for a moment. He was unaccustomed to taking care of someone. His shoulders had never been used to cry on before. Still... “Would you like to talk about it?”

Duo turned bleak, dead eyes to him. “It's the past.”

Wufei understood, because he himself had been there countless times before. His psych evaluation had been interesting. “Yes, but the past always interferes with the present.”

Duo nodded and turned back away. “I loved them.”

Wufei stiffened.

“I'd been so alone for so long... so many years... there'd only been the other rats, and our leader, Solo. When Solo and the others died... Sister Helen was a blessing, and Father Maxwell was so accepting...” He shook his head. “I thought I had a home.”

“Duo...”

Duo just shook his head again. His hand twitched, as if having been ordered to do something but not having the strength. “They got me out of the house, Wufei. They knew it was coming, and they knew when.”

Wufei stood automatically. “They what?” His senses sharpened, and he turned into a cop. “Why didn't you tell us this?”

“How could it matter?” he said bitterly. “Those men had said... they'd said that they would be hunted down, and it would just be better if they gave up and didn't get anyone else involved. They'd looked at me when they said that part. And then Father Maxwell lied to me, and told me they had a debt, and that the bank had a secret opening... he lied, and he got me out.”

“He ordered you to steal?” Wufei gasped, aghast.

“No. I offered. But there was no opening. I was...” His head fell into his hands. “I didn't know. If I had, I wouldn't have gone. I would've...”

“You would've been killed,” Wufei said gently. “You know that.” Those men... who were they? Was one of them J? Was he the one who painted the mural on Duo's bathroom wall?

“Doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.” Duo's fists squeezed, and whatever he'd been about to say next had been swallowed back. But Wufei got the gist of it.

How could someone who constantly laughed be suicidal?

Duo shook his head. “I know... I know that's wrong. I know.” He quirked Wufei a quick, tired grin. “After all, I've fixed up a number of cars in my day.”

Wufei shook his head and smiled, but only because Duo wanted him to. “For one thing.”

Duo frowned for a second, then it cleared and he shrugged. “I'm sorry, 'Fei,” he said, using the strange pet name he'd formed for the austere policeman. “I'm being a pain and keeping you up. You don't need to worry about me. Really.” He looked around Wufei's house and smiled. “Nice digs, man. I thought policemen were poor bastards.”

Wufei smiled again. He was coming back. “I have a fairly wealthy background.”

“You don't say?” Duo's eyes gleamed. “Man, you're lucky I'm an honest businessman, or I'd definitely be finding mythical animals romping around in your carburetor.”

Wufei chuckled and shook his head. “I have a spare room that you're welcome to use if you wish.”

“No offense, 'Fei, but I have zero desire to sleep.” He paused. “Hey, how long do you think they're going to be in my house?”

“A day, maybe two. There's probably not much they can do with that picture.”

Duo nodded. “I figured. It's just a picture. Unless the guy was stupid enough to stick his hands all in it, then...”

“Basically. All we would be able to find out is whether the paint and paintbrush is common or not.”

“Which still wouldn't necessarily help,” Duo sighed. He stood slowly, showing an emotional fatigue. “I figured. I don't want to impose. After all, we still don't really know each other. I'll catch a hotel.”

Wufei cleared his throat uncomfortably, embarrassed and upset. Duo turned to him with a cocked eyebrow. “I offered my home as one friend to another, yes,” he began, “but I am also a policeman. We need to keep you under surveillance.”

A flash of remembrance hit his features and he instantly grimaced. “Dammit, I forgot about that bullshit.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. My bad. All right. Spare bed. Gotcha.” He sent Wufei another lopsided smile. “Sorry you're the one stuck with me, dude. Are you going to insist on sleeping outside, too?”

So Yuy hadn't been comfortable with the idea of being in the house with the man. “No, though it is a good strategy. You see more from outside than inside,” Wufei explained at Duo's blank look.

“Ah.” Duo shrugged. “Right. Okay.” He looked around again, seemingly lost.

He look rumpled, tired and frustrated. Haggard. Worn out. “Come on, Maxwell. I'll lead you upstairs.”

Duo nodded. “All right. Thanks.” He seemed to have run out of smiles.

Wufei's brow furrowed in concern. Duo was so full of life. Where had it all gone? Moreover, where the hell had he found it to begin with?

* * *

Heero glared at the computer. He'd been digging around in it for a while now. It was huge, complicated. How many mechanics boasted about having computer like this?

He damned himself both ways. On one hand, he was angry that he was doubting Duo after the man had streamed out of his house futilely fighting tears. Heero had felt the power of his interest all the way down to his toes when Duo had curled into him. The man had been grieving. Hurting. But he'd wanted. So much.

He raked his hand through his hair for the hundredth time that hour. The man had just seen a mural that depicted the brutal slaughter of the two people he loved more than anyone.

Motive.

God, he didn't want to think that. But it was impossible to not see the signs. A huge computer. The ability he had to see things and then to be completely ignorant of other things. The man acted incompetent, but he wasn't.

 _Was_ he Shinigami?

Heero hoped not. That instant when Duo had come to him, collapsed against him and cried... in that instant, his ability to keep a safe distance burned to ashes. There had been no insincerity in those tears, and more, there was no trickery in his need to be with Heero. And Heero had felt a warm, unnamed something delve deep into his chest at the thought of the man coming to him.

It would hurt, very much, if this man turned out to be that bastard vigilante.

There wasn't anything suspicious on these computers. In fact, there was some virtual mechanic practice downloads that took up an enormous amount of space. When Heero clicked on it, he found himself transported to a garage in which sat a car with a blinking oil change light and smoke billowing from under the hood. Heero fixed it using a full virtual toolbox. Practice? Or pleasure? There were also records of saved mahjong games. The man seemed pretty good at them. Then there were documents, saved transcripts of repairs he'd done, a couple of essays to a couple magazines on what to do when something happened to one's car. Mountains and mountains of old music, showing an eclectic taste. Episodes of something called Death Note, whatever the hell that was. An old cartoon show, from the looks of it.

Heero sat back, frowning. It could all be a cover. Most likely it was. It was like the man lived on automobiles.

He cocked an eyebrow at a coded entry. He easily broke into it.

A journal.

It was sporadic, and hardly updated. There was only one recently:

_I found out that Wufei's a cop. Who'd have figured? I kind've saw the guy as a lawyer. Anyway, apparently the cops have some new lead on Father Maxwell and Sister Helen's murders. I can only hope they catch the bastards. Even though I don't trust cops... I trust Wufei. And his partner seems pretty good, too. I'll give them a chance._

Interesting. From the perspective of a civilian, it meant nothing more than fear that cops would be incompetent. Heero felt a twinge of annoyance, but he had to concede that, from Duo's perspective, cops had always been useless.

But from another perspective, one could look at that last sentence and wonder, and they can wonder a lot.

Was Duo the killer? Was _he_ the one responsible for G.O.S.H.? Heero believed that the killer of G.O.S.H. wasn't necessarily the killer of the five's close-members murders. He believed it was a deliberate copycat.

Duo had a very high motive for this.

He sighed and shut the computer down. Wondering was fruitless. He would have to get the computer sent to the lab to be checked out. Duo wouldn't be happy about that.

He shouldn't care.

Quatre came into the room then, having gone to receive the analysis of the paint. “Normal paint, dollar store brush,” he told Heero simply, then looked at the computer. “I know why you think he's bad, but he's not. Duo's a good person.”

“How do you know?” Heero asked, his voice carefully neutral. “You don't know him.”

“Sure I do. I met him once, a long time ago. I don't think he remembers.”

“A long time ago?” Heero cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes. My car had broken down on the side of the road. I was about to be late for a meeting.”

Heero could already see where this was going. “Let me guess – he fixed your car.” Of course.

“Not just that – he gave me a lift to the meeting, went back to fix the car, and then came back to wait for me to get out of the meeting. The meeting lasted for over three hours, but when I came out, there he was, humming a tune. He waved at me to show he was there. People don't normally do that, Heero.”

No, they didn't. And it was interesting that Duo Maxwell did. What kind of a man was he?

“Still,” Heero felt he had to speak, “the cards are stacked against him.”

Quatre sighed. “I know.” He seemed to want to say something more.

“Just say it, Sergeant,” Heero advised.

Quatre hesitated for another second. “It's just... I get the feeling that Shinigami isn't a bad person, either. I mean, sure, he says he sells to the highest bidder, but does it really seem to be that way to you? I've looked at his records. He never sends the bid to a bad guy.”

“As far as we know,” Heero pointed out. “He can cover his tracks without a problem.”

“Yes,” Quatre agreed, “but we've never heard anything about a suspect going free for a long time. Sometimes Shinigami even catches them before we do. He's better than a private investigator, too. He can find anything. He could be a very lucrative villain himself, but instead he plays as a behind-the-scenes P.I.”

“He's a vigilante, Quatre.”

“I know that,” the blond said defensively. “Still... I think it would be wonderful if we could get the man to join us instead of losing him to the courts.”

Heero frowned. It was true. If they had Shinigami on their side, they would practically be invincible. Almost an invincible task force.

Another reason why Duo Maxwell could very well be Shinigami. After all, G.O.S.H. and J both very much wanted Duo Maxwell with their police force. And Shinigami would be the perfect edition to their four-man team.

“If you think Duo Maxwell could be Shinigami... I agree.” Heero sent him a sharp look. “That doesn't mean I think Duo should be punished or anything, just... I think, in his own way, he's fighting back against crime. He just doesn't trust cops, right?”

“Wufei said Duo Maxwell never lies, though he may skirt truths.” Trowa had appeared beside Quatre – very close to Quatre. “Perhaps we should just ask him straight-out whether he is Shinigami or not.”

Quatre sent Trowa a grateful glance.

“That would be putting too much trust in him,” Heero said with a shake of his head. “We'll search for evidence by seizing this computer.”

“You do know that, if he _is_ Shinigami, we still wouldn't know. Right?” Trowa said.

“Yes. I want to know how much space is available out of how much is possible to have.”

Trowa's eyes lit. “Ah.”

Heero frowned. He didn't want Duo Maxwell to be anything more than what he was – a mechanic with a strange fascination for fixing cars. A kind man with a huge computer and a scatterbrained mind.

But Heero already knew that wasn't the case.

* * *

Duo went to work more to have something to do. He was still hurting, still upset.

But beneath the sorrow was a building rage so great it tested the limits of his strength. He wanted to kill. He'd never been an extremely violent man, though he'd had his share of fights while growing up on the streets. The fighting had always been more need than desire.

Not now. Now he wanted blood.

Reminding him of the slaughter of Father Maxwell and Sister Helen wouldn't turn him to the cops. Instead it would turn him further away. Maybe it would have, but he knew the truth. He knew who J was. He didn't trust the cops, and for good reason. The killer was there, sitting pretty reading reports of murders, yukking it up. The bastard had gotten away scot free, ruining five lives, killing more. He had to pay.

Duo worked on a car during the morning, an old beat-up piece of junk that old Stanson wouldn't part with for stupid sentimental reasons having to do with his wife and the first kiss they shared in the front seats. Duo was sick of it. The damn thing was in practically every other week because parts were literally falling off the piece of shit.

Another car came up just as the transmission decided it wanted to break down entirely. Duo cursed the car's existence to the bottom pits of hell before wiping his hands on a rag and abandoning the bastard machine. He looked up to see a sleek silver Volvo. His eyebrows lifted; he'd never had that car before.

And out stepped the Chief of Police.

Duo growled low in his throat, just barely remembering to throw the rag on its rack. He slipped to the front of his garage and plastered a smile on his face.

“Hello there, stranger! How are you? You have car trouble?”

“Hello, Shinigami.”

Duo froze, his grin disappearing in a flash. The man held a cane, but he didn't seem to need it. He had strange glasses on and a mechanical left arm.

And he knew.

J chuckled. “Yes, I knew you were Shinigami the first I heard of you. I've been searching for you. Just found you yesterday. I was surprised to see Heero in front of your house. Seems they haven't been telling me anything.”

“With good reason, J.” Duo cautiously stepped out from his garage. He knew the danger he was placing himself in, but the anger simmering below his blood took away his ability to give a damn. “You'll be killed soon.”

“Tonight, actually. That's why I wanted to see you.”

“Go to hell,” Duo snarled softly. “I know you're the one who pulled it all off. You sent the men to the church.”

“Yes, I was quite furious to hear they'd been caught. I'd known immediately that I'd lost my edge. You didn't come to me.”

“Damn good thing. I'm not one to be manipulated.”

“Every human on this planet is manipulated, in one way or another. Children get their cues from their parents, whether good or bad. From friends they learn habits and ideals, from grandparents they learn of the past. Whether we decide to be like someone or the opposite of someone, we are always manipulated by those around us. You, too, have been manipulated. Just not as I'd hoped.”

Duo's nails bit into his palms. “Bastard. You killed them just to manipulate me?!”

“Of course.” The man nodded. “You have the ability to be someone truly great. Look at your hacking abilities. I chose well.” He nodded again.

Duo stalked toward the man. “You fucker! That's not-” He shook his head violently. His braid whipped wildly behind him. “You murdered people! You left us all miserable! You tortured us for your own ends!”

“Boy, what do you know of Romefeller? Eh?” He smacked his cane on the ground. “Nothing!” Another smack. “Those men are a threat to peace as we know it. They are planning much more than you can comprehend.”

“Then clue me in, Grandpa,” Duo snapped. “Go ahead – I'm all fucking ears.”

“You are not ready.”

“Bullshit, you old fuck! Tell me – why the hell did Sister Helen and Father Maxwell and Sister Mary have to die?!”

“Listen to you. Three lives for the world? How could I not make that decision?”

“It's not your decision to make!”

J's glasses flashed in the sun. “Foolish little boy. You think you understand this world? You are still nothing more than a child, dreaming your own little fairy tales. You send petty thieves to justice and think you're helping to save the world. You don't understand the horrors people are capable of.”

Duo thought of all he'd seen on the streets – children allowing themselves to be raped for money, children being killed in the streets for looking at a pimp wrong. Starved bodies on the ground. Other bodies of kids who hadn't been able to withstand the cold. Sister Helen. Father Maxwell. Sister Mary. Death, sex, and pain. He understood very well the horrors of the world. “You know nothing about me,” Duo snarled.

“I know everything about you, boy. G and I agreed that you would be a perfect addition.”

G? G was the one who'd been on him? Who had marked the others?

“Look up Romefeller, boy. Maybe you'll begin to learn more then.” J began walking back to his car.

Duo followed him as he opened the door. With a jerk, he turned the man around and grabbed his collar, pulling him forward. “No, fucker. We're not done here. You _killed_ them. I'm not letting you walk away.”

Quicker than Duo could follow, J twisted his arms and flipped him around. With a painful wrench, Duo's arms were pulled back behind him.

“Don't threaten me, boy. You aren't strong enough. Only together can you all win against Romefeller. You _must_ join the team if we are to have victory. Stop being a whining toddler and shape up. I don't give a damn if you like me – just do as I say.”

“Never,” Duo snapped. His arms were in agony, pulled up even higher. He winced.

“You _will_ do as I say. After all, you've begun to have feelings for dear Heero, haven't you?”

Duo's breath stopped.

“Fool,” the old man said. “I told you – I know everything. Your minds and profiles matched for a strong relationship. Another perfect reason for the two of you to join together. Though I believe emotions to be more of an impediment, it will serve to force the two of you together. If you don't do as I say, Heero will die. I've sent the orders myself. After my death, you must join him – or Heero will go through much worse than you did last night.”

“Bastard.” Duo felt fear and anger snap through him, lightning flashes of emotion. “I won't let you win.”

“I won ten years ago, boy.”

Duo cried out in rage. “The hell you did! You can't force someone's emotions!”

“But you will join, won't you, boy?” The man chuckled. “Your heart is already linked to Heero's. It's inevitable. You two are too perfect for one another.”

It wasn't true. Heero was too perceptive, too honorable, and too... too much a cop. They would butt heads too much. They were enemies.

But he couldn't let Heero get hurt. Not after what Heero had done for him last night. He wouldn't let it happen.

“You won't hurt him,” Duo managed. “You wouldn't dare – you need him too much.”

“I told you, boy: it's all or nothing. If I do not have all of you, I have none of you. Heero Yuy is useless to me alone, though the boy is a fantastic specimen.”

“He's not a speci-” Duo flinched and shouted softly in pain. The man had twisted his arms a bit more. They felt ready to come out of their sockets. Duo found himself almost bent fully at the waist to try to escape the pain. With tears in his eyes, he gritted his teeth and wished he could get his hands around the bastard's throat.

“By tonight, I will be dead. By tonight, I expect you to be fully cooperating with Heero and the others.”

“They'll arrest me if they know,” he gasped. “Don't you know that?”

“This is why I certainly cannot have the five of you working alone,” the man said with a sigh. “By tonight, he will already know.”

Duo's eyes widened. “Impossible.”

“Heero always finds a way.”

That was true enough – the man had probably found a loophole, the one he couldn't prevent – the space on his hard drives. He couldn't hide how much he used. “Conjecture,” he muttered.

“But it will be enough for Heero.” The man leaned forward, whispering into Duo's ear. “Remember – tonight. Or Heero will be haunted by more than memories.” Duo was shoved forward. Unable to lift his arms for the pain, he crashed roughly to the ground.

Duo moved his arms to pick himself up and groaned in pain – they really had almost been ripped out. They protested every movement he made. He managed to lever himself up in time to see J rev up his engine. The man looked straight at him, his face serious behind those glasses and that shoulder-length hair. Duo struggled to his hand and knees, lifting himself slowly into a kneeling position.

The engine revved a bit more, then backed up a bit.

Shit! Duo understood the movements, the noise. Arms shaking, he tried to lever himself up faster.

The engine clicked into forward drive and the unmistakable sound of the gas petal being shoved to the floor of the car could be heard. Duo only had the time to think of a curse – and cobalt blue – before stumbling back, fisting his hands and feeling a blast of indescribable pain lance through his head. Without a sound, he crumpled to the ground.

The silver Volvo backed up and left the parking lot with a smooth turn.

* * *

“Duo! Duo!”

Distantly Duo heard the voice. He thoughts of angels and dark blue skies before falling back into hell.


	7. Leave Out All The Rest

“What?! The Chief is dead?!”

“Yes. He was found just like the others – butchered. The letter J was found on his chest.”

“Jesus.” A chair creaked. “Have forensics found anything?”

“No.”

“Shit. Shit!”

“The reporters have been everywhere, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Heero, perhaps you should leave for a bit. I'll stand watch. They want you to say something, since you're the leader of this investigation.”

“Shit.” A sigh. “All right. I'll be there soon, Trowa. Give me ten minutes.”

“All right.”

There was a beeping noise, Duo noticed distantly. A really, really irritating beeping noise. And dripping noise. Why was he undergoing Chinese torture?

“Jesus. I'd been right. He _was_ J. And you, Duo. Are you really Shinigami?”

He hardly understood the words, but he recognized his name. The beeping noise jolted for a second.

“Duo?”

His name again. The beeping noise jumped once more.

“Duo! Duo, wake up. Come on. Get up.”

Yes, it was that voice. The one that called to him like a Siren. The one he had to resist. It was a serpent's voice, a beautiful song that changed to a hissing strike. Cruel. Cutting. He couldn't trust it.

But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel the powerful beauty of it. For others, that voice would be salvation. He wished it could be his, as well.

“Duo, come on. I have to leave soon. You're not allowed to wake up without me here. Get up!”

There was an almost frantic edge to it, not panicked, but... almost angry. Frustrated. A frustrated angel, or a frustrated demon?

“Duo, dammit! Don't do this to me!”

The angel was being pretty damn insistent. Pesky, irritating angel.

He tried to move his hand to tell the voice to shut up, but only managed to make it twitch. It was damn heavy. For that matter, his eyelids felt like lead weights. Lifting them open was like pushing against two brick walls.

Finally he saw, just a tiny slit, but something. White. Everything was fucking white, and that damn dripping noise could still be heard. Drip. Drip. Drip. And that beeping. Why wouldn't it shut up?

“Duo.”

The noise came from the left. He slowly turned his eyes toward it. There was something clear and dangling in his line of view, an irritating blur that distracted him. Then there was a block of brown and blue and peach. A person. The one with the insistent voice. The Angel-Demon.

Slowly things took on a stronger shape, and he recognized it. He could even label it. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Heero.”

His voice was weak, nothing more than a breath. A pounding was centering in his head, banging against his brain with rage and loathing. He winced in pain.

“God. What happened?”

“I would like it very much if you told me,” Heero said with irritation. “Unfortunately, I must go give an appearance. I'll have the doctor take a look at you while I'm gone. I expect you to be here when I return. Understand?”

Duo couldn't understand. Why was Heero angry? He'd thought they'd gotten at least a little closer after that fiasco last night. Hadn't they?

“Do you understand?”

Duo winced again – damn that hissing noise that Heero could make. It made the evil imps with the spikes dig their weapons in deeper. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Sure. Fine. Whatever.”

“Swear it.”

He frowned. “Swear.”

“Fine. I will return as soon as possible.” Then he leaned over and pressed a large button on the side of the bed he rested in.

Doctor, he understood belatedly. Hospital. He was in the hospital.

Suddenly more alert, he struggled up. “What happened? Why am I in the hospital?” His throat felt dry as a desert, and about as sandpaper-y.

Heero scowled. “You were found unconscious in the driveway of your garage by a passerby.”

The bastard. That was right – J. J had come to threaten him, hurt him. He'd wrenched his arm behind him, threatened both him and Heero, and then... had thrown him to the ground and smacked him in the face with his car. Bastard.

But wait – he was supposed to have been killed... when? Was he too late? He had to send a message to Heero somehow! But how? He was trapped in the hospital, his computer most likely confiscated...

Shit.

And Heero most likely knew.

That was it – that was why Heero had gotten so... so pushy. So rude. He knew. Or at least he thought he knew. Duo would do his damned best to keep Heero from ever knowing completely. But J had said that it would be the same thing to Heero Yuy. And Duo had the feeling the old shit had been right.

Still, Duo had been given extremely useful information. If he ignored the old man's order, someone else would be able to follow up on his threat. Which meant there were more than just the five scientists. Underlings, or equals? What should he do?

While he was in the hospital, he was safe. He couldn't very well cooperate with the police when he was in the hospital, now could he? But once he was released, if it was found that he hadn't given information to the police... if he wasn't found going in and out of the cop's place over and over again... hell, if it was found out that he didn't admit to being Shinigami...

Death. And maybe not just his.

It didn't matter that his life was in jeopardy. He was Shinigami – the God of Death. He was cursed to live while everyone around him died. That was nothing to him. If he truly did die, then the curse would finally be broken. That would be... a very good thing.

But here was a threat that spread to others – to those around him. To Heero Yuy, who had made it his mission to get close to the one person no one should ever get close to. Duo wouldn't let someone else die because of him. He would never...

The doctor walked in then, smiling brightly. “Good morning, Mr. Maxwell. How are you?”

Duo watched the man carefully. “How long have I been out?”

“You were found yesterday afternoon. You're lucky; with the hit you took to your head, you could have been out much longer than you were, especially as long as you may have gone without getting help. As it is, you've been unconscious for about twelve hours.”

Twelve hours. J would be dead. It was too late.

He closed his eyes. He should have told the copperheads as soon as he'd found out. Because he'd hesitated...

“Well, your chart looks good,” the doctor chirped. Stupid happy person. Duo slitted his eyes into a half-hearted glare. A young doctor, probably no older than thirty-five. Happy. Bubbly. Duo almost groaned.

“Yeah? Swell.”

“Mr. Maxwell, do you remember what happened to you?” The doctor turned fully to him. “You seemed to have taken an injury to your head.”

Seemed? Oh, yeah, he'd taken an injury, all right. If it weren't for the guilt, Duo would be extremely gleeful about that bastard's death. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Some nut must've not seen me. I dropped a paper and bent to get it, and then – bam!” He shrugged. “Crazy drivers.”

He would only speak to Heero.

The doctor frowned. “Did you see who it was?”

“Not really... but I'll tell that cop about the car when he comes back.”

The doctor nodded briskly. “See that you do,” he said, and here he was serious. Duo almost smiled, recognizing his cheerfulness as a professional mask. Interesting – almost like himself. “I'll be back soon, but for now, a nurse will be taking your measurements. If all goes well, you should be out of here within the next couple days.” The doctor smiled brightly and left.

Was it sick to hope things didn't go well?

He didn't have to wait long for the nurse to bounce in; he was about to gag on the bubbly cheerfulness that seemed to permeate the very air here. She checked his chart, just like the doctor had, then his IV drip. Then she pulled out her group of gadgets and proceeded to take his blood pressure, temperature, and an assortment of other things. He quit paying attention fairly quickly.

He relaxed against his bed and tried to think. Okay. They knew he's Shinigami – or at least they thought they knew. Secret: out. Busted. Fucked. Jail? They could stick him in there, but he hadn't done anything illegal. They could search all they wanted for any proof of bargaining with criminals; they wouldn't find any. Primarily because he never did. He was just an on-line P.I. Nothing illegal. Immoral? Maybe. But not illegal.

Still... Duo could bet all his hard-earned money that to Lieutenant Heero Yuy, they were one and the same.

He didn't care.

Did he?

He glared at nothing. No. He did not.

J had said something about Heero and him being... closely psychologically tied, or some such bullshit. Like interest could be foreseen. It sounded like a rip-off internet site. 'We'll match you with a compatible blah-blah believe us and give us money.' Pfft. No such thing.

Ridiculous. Why was he even thinking about this? For some reason, he just couldn't get the memory of Heero's warm, solid chest from his mind. Granted, he was gay. Duo knew that as well as he knew cars – no, better. He'd always looked at it as a sin against Father Maxwell and Sister Helen.

Heero had been... very, very helpful then. Once he'd found he needed time – and silence – he gave them to him. He... had comforted. It was... odd. Wonderful. But... it could make him vulnerable. Especially when it was Heero Yuy he was talking about – _Lieutenant_ Heero Yuy. The Heero Yuy who had discovered his secret.

He shifted uncomfortably. There was a huge problem in and of itself. Yes, he couldn't be sent to jail on such charges – not without at least some sort of proof that he was some sort of money-grubber, which he wasn't – but he could still be put in prison and... hell, the police didn't like him on general principal. He could go through a lot of shit.

J. All of this was his fault. All of this shit was _his_ fucking fault. If he weren't already dead, Duo would be sorely tempted to kill him.

Damn the guilt for coming back.

Steady footsteps sounded on the linoleum floor. Duo turned his head, waiting. He had a feeling he knew who this would be.

He wasn't even remotely surprised to see Heero Yuy coming in the room, though he was a bit surprised to see Wufei with him. Wufei was... upset. Duo could see it plainly on his face.

Time for the questioning.

“Duo Maxwell.” Heero took a stoic, almost military stance. Wufei closed the door behind him.

Duo let his eyebrows raise. “Lieutenant?”

“Duo,” Wufei spoke up, “we have looked at your computer.”

Duo let his forehead wrinkle. “Huh? Um, okay.” He shook his head slowly. “Um, what does that have to do with me getting hit?”

Wufei's face twisted for a second. Heero took up the conversational ball. “It doesn't. It has to do with you being Shinigami.”

Duo let his face frown in confusion before shock pulled at it. “Shinigami? The on-line guy? Me?” He struggled up. “What the hell?”

“Mr. Maxwell, your computer shows an outrageous amount of memory, memory taken up that has been stored secretly. Do you want to explain this?”

Duo snarled, even as he smirked inwardly. He'd known about this weakness in his computer, the one thing he couldn't hide. The one thing that would throw suspicion on him immediately. Knowing one's weakness, shouldn't one endeavor to make it one's strength? He let his cheeks color. “Look, that's none of your business.”

“Duo,” Wufei spoke again, “we need to know what's in there. If you aren't Shinigami, this could clear your name.”

“The hell? You've put me on record?” Duo glared at Wufei. “Man, I know being a cop means following the law first, but I thought...” He let himself blush again and looked away.

He would _not_ feel guilty for doing this. It was stupid to feel guilty for lying to cops. Cops were enemies... well, maybe not these two, but... he was saving himself from a hell of a lot of misery. And he knew that he would lose Wufei's friendship if he learned the truth. Best to hold the friendship a little longer, even if it was based on lies. After all, Wufei was the only friend he had. Other than maybe Hilde – but that was based on lies, too.

“Mr. Maxwell, once you are released by the doctors, you will be transferred to us. We will-”

“Hold on a fucking minute!” He sat up straight, not allowing himself to acknowledge the dizziness and nausea that roiled around him. “You're fucking crazy! Look, it's not that fucking difficult to get inside, okay? You just need to know the password.”

“We've already gotten through that, Mr. Maxwell.”

He glared at Heero. “No, you twit, the _other_ password. You have to hit CTRL-ALT-DEL, then Windows Task Manager will show up. Just go into that and double-click on the 'Extras' program.” At their stunned looks, Duo carefully shrugged. “I kind of asked for help, okay?”

Wufei spoke up then, seeming almost eager. “Then what, Duo?”

He blushed again. “A password will be needed... it's iwontforget, no caps or spaces or apostrophe. Okay? Satisfied?” He glared at Heero. “I don't know what your problem is, buddy, but you've got it in for me. First you think I had something to do with the church, and now you're throwing this shit at me!”

“Duo, it's a reasonable assumption,” Wufei began.

“So, what, you don't have any weird hobbies?” Duo snapped. Then he visibly tried to relax himself. He was surprised to find that he was _actually_ upset, though he couldn't tell with who. “Okay, whatever.” He carefully laid back down. He was tired now. He shouldn't have exerted himself.

Two things were running through his mind: his back-up drives, which he had bought and installed into his computer himself. Those back-up hard-drives were encased just as deeply as the secrets on his computer, to help hide _them_. So when the cops found the holes in his computer, they overlooked the fact that there were external drives hidden amongst the outrageous size of his computer. They would see the gap while missing the more important gap. They would find nothing in his computer. He tried not to feel guilty about lying to Wufei, who was obviously a good friend – and obviously honorable. If Wufei ever found out... but he wouldn't.

He also couldn't help but think about whatever J's henchmen would do. Would they really go after Heero? How could he protect Heero from the shadows? Because he wanted Heero to be protected. Not just because he was Wufei's friend, but because the man had helped him. When he'd been hurting, the man had been there to comfort. Heero couldn't be allowed to die.

Wordlessly Heero left the room.

Duo watched him leave, then turned back to Wufei. He seemed... chagrined. “Wufei, why do you guys want me to be some sort of bad guy?” His voice was quiet.

“We don't,” Wufei said simply. “We just... Duo, this case involves Shinigami _and_ the murder of Charles Maxwell and-”

“What does that have to do with _me_?” Duo demanded. “Yeah, I was there for... for the church murders, but why do you think...?”

Wufei sighed. “I can't fully explain. This case is _strictly_ confidential. It's a reasonable assumption, Duo, one we had to follow up on. It's not personal.”

“Yeah, I know. That's the _problem_. I thought...” But Duo would never accept such emotions. He would never say he'd thought of Wufei as a friend, nor would he speak of how hurt he was. The man was a cop. Duo knew very well what cops were like.

Wufei's eyes looked guilty. “I am sorry.”

Dammit. And worse, Wufei was right. He _was_ Shinigami.

Duo dropped the subject. “When do they think I'll be allowed to leave?” Then he paused. “Hey – when are they going to be done with my house?”

Wufei quirked a smile. “Another day. They... took the liberty of getting the wall clean.”

Duo closed his eyes. Thank God.

“Duo, I am very sorry about this.”

“It's... fine.” He shook a tired smile out for Wufei, tried it on. “Really.” He frowned. “What would you have done... if I...”

Wufei breathed sharply. “I would have arrested you.”

Duo winced.

“Honestly... we wouldn't be able to do much. Unless there are findings that Shinigami helped criminals...” Wufei's voice got hard. “He would serve time, if only we could find such proof.”

Duo entered the minefield carefully. “You haven't? But...”

“He's _very_ good. If he _were_ helping criminals, he could hide it. He could hide his existence entirely if he so chose. None of our hackers...” Wufei smiled sardonically. “I shouldn't have said that.”

“I won't tell,” Duo promised, inwardly preening.

Wufei shrugged. “I have to admit though... he would be a fantastic cop.” Wufei seemed to have a grudging respect for Shinigami. Duo watched carefully. “Quatre believes Shinigami isn't actually a criminal.”

Quatre: the really nice sergeant. Duo hid a smile. “Why?”

“He believes, as I do, that Shinigami could hide himself easily. He also believes that Shinigami could do a lot better than a few thousand from businessmen. He's right.” Wufei shrugged. “I'm sure you know better than most just how much crime pays.”

“Yeah,” Duo said sourly. And he always made certain it didn't – not after he found it.

“In the end...” Wufei shook his head, apparently stopping his small explanation. “Don't worry about it, Duo. As soon as you're found innocent, Yuy will drop the charges.”

Duo felt guilt splay through his system, one quick sharp burst that he fought off vehemently. “Uh-huh.”

Wufei smiled. “If you're innocent, Maxwell, you have nothing to worry about.”

Duo grimaced. Too bad he wasn't innocent.


	8. By Myself

Duo estimated that about five minutes had passed since Wufei's exit that a man he didn't know entered his room.

He knew the man was J's immediately.

“Hello, Duo Maxwell.”

The man was disgustingly cheerful, just like the damn doctor. Brown hair, almost black, cropped into a buzz-cut. Military? He definitely had the appearance of it; the hard, steady posture, the cruel tilt to his chin. His eyes were dead, even when he smiled. He looked dangerous. The hair on Duo's arms and neck stood at attention.

“It seems we're at a disadvantage,” he said smoothly, falling easily into the Jester's mask. “You know my name, but I don't know yours.”

“And that is how it will remain,” the man told him. Duo carefully kept his face irritated, keeping the smugness out of it. Bullshit, of course, Duo knew what the man looked like. Soon he'd have all the information he needed. There was _no_ information he couldn't get.

“What do you want?” Duo demanded, dropping the kind act.

The mystery guest, however, kept right on smiling. With that straight nose, those dead eyes, that thin chin... his face would look perfect on a dartboard.

“Just giving you a friendly reminder,” the man said easily.

 _Friendly my ass._ “Message delivered. Now get out.”

“Now, now. There's no need to rush. I heard you aren't going to tell them you're Shinigami.”

Shit. They had the room wired. “That's right. I can help from the shadows.”

“Not very well.”

“Well enough,” Duo snapped. “I can't very well help them if they lock me up, now can I?”

The man frowned then. “Hm. Keep yourself handy, Duo Maxwell. You won't be the one I punish if you don't.”

Duo refused to show the fear that shimmered through him. Heero was nothing to him. They hardly knew one another. “You know your way out.”

“Remember, Duo Maxwell.” The smile had returned. “I don't like to baby-sit.”

“Then don't,” Duo advised. He carefully kept his fist from clenching.

“I won't.” The man gave him a Boy Scout salute. “See you later.”

 _Sooner than you may think._ Duo merely inclined his head.

Once the man left, Duo allowed himself to tense and grimace. What was he going to do? He was boxed in from all sides. Granted, the police would get off his back, but by how much? He'd be watched like a hawk, constantly under the disapproving eye of one Heero Yuy. As for J's men, they were already watching his every move. Then there was the other enemy, the actual enemy, who was going around butchering people. Three major enemies, three major concerns.

How long before he was caught?

But he wouldn't let that happen. Once he got his computer back, he would be able to look up the identity of his little mystery stalker. Heero Yuy would back off a bit, and if he was careful he would be able to avoid any more suspicion. Then he would take down this mystery group and disappear. It was time he moved on, anyway. And as Wufei had said, he could easily disappear.

So he would lose his friend. He only had two. And in his lies... a friendship formed by lies couldn't be called a true friendship. And Lord knew he was used to being alone.

One step at a time. He needed out of there, and he needed his computer. The latter being more important.

He laid back, closed his eyes, and waited.

* * *

Step one was accomplished within the next few hours. Heero and Wufei returned, Wufei looking relieved and Heero looking frustrated as hell. Duo watched them both with careful eyes.

“Why didn't you tell us you're a graphic designer?” Heero demanded.

Duo didn't allow himself to smirk. “It's just a hobby, and it's not that good. And exactly how many mechanics go around drawing on a computer?” He let himself blush.

“Duo-” Wufei started, but Heero cut him off.

“This isn't the sort of thing you should hide, Duo Maxwell,” Heero snapped. “You are under investigation.”

“Well how the hell was I supposed to know that you all wanted to point the finger at me?” he fumed. “It's my own private business. My computer had nothing to do with that mural, so how was I supposed to know you'd take it? Or that you'd immediately assume that I'm some sort of... of on-line vigilante?”

“Once I mentioned our suspicions, you should have informed us.”

Duo scowled. “It's none of your business. I told you that.” The blush hadn't faded yet. It truly was embarrassing, admitting that his skills on the computer applied to more than just hacking. Who made computer characters for fun? Let alone making them move and even giving them specific personalities.

“Duo, when you're under investigation-”

This time Duo was the one to cut Wufei off, and by rounding on him. “So am I supposed to just let you run all over me? Cower to you? I know my own innocence. And if you _cops_ want to think me guilty, what the fuck can I do about it? Who the hell's going to believe a lil' old street rat, anyway?”

He inhaled sharply. He hadn't meant to say that.

Wufei's eyes widened. “Maxwell-”

“Excuse me, officers, but I'll have to ask you to leave now.” The doctor poked his head in. Duo gave him a grateful look. “You're disturbing my patient, and I'm afraid he needs his rest.”

Heero's fists clenched. He stood straight for a time, his shoulders shaking in frustration. But then he calmed and turned to the doctor. “Understood. Please do not release him without our permission.”

“The hell-” Duo snapped.

“Yuy-”

“I'm sorry, officers, but I've been informed that your investigation has been dropped. Because of that, I do not need your permission to release my patient. But if he continues at this rate, he'll be released tomorrow, most likely in the afternoon.”

Music to Duo's ears.

“Now, gentlemen, I believe it's time for you to leave.” The doctor held the door open.

Wufei readily left, but Heero turned back to give Duo one last glare. He wasn't convinced, Duo realized. Not in the slightest. “You won't go far.”

“I have a job,” Duo snapped, tossing his head. “I won't leave, but I certainly won't stay because of you.”

Wufei turned to Heero. “Yuy, we should go.” There was a quick bout of silent communication before Heero and Wufei finally left.

The doctor watched them leave, then turned to Duo. “Try to get some rest. I'll have a nurse come check on you a bit later.”

“Thanks, doc.” Duo sent the bubbly man a smile and laid back, closing his eyes once more. He had hardly been faking before that outburst, and without realizing it, he had completely lost control and shouted out something he'd never meant to say. Shit.

All in all, he may have just made a huge mistake.

On the other hand, nothing showed innocence like honest anger. Maybe he'd spared himself by doing that.

Still, it had showed them something he hadn't wanted them to see. It created a vulnerability, one he was certain Heero Yuy would use against him. But he would deal with that in time. Right now he had other concerns.

* * *

Heero was silent as he drove them back to the precinct. Wufei looked to him. “We need to talk.”

“He's guilty.”

Wufei sighed. “Maybe. Maybe not, Heero.”

“No. He's definitely guilty.”

Unfortunately, Heero had never been wrong before. “Heero-”

“You defended him.”

“Dammit, Heero, we have no proof. And...” He hesitated. “I know this is a sore subject with you, but Duo is a good man.”

“Didn't you hear him?” Heero spat. “He said cops like it was a curse word. He hates us.”

“And you hate him,” Wufei retorted. “Don't you understand? It's blatantly obvious that he's dealt with cops like you before.”

Heero took his eyes off the road and glared at Wufei. “What the hell do you mean, 'cops like me'?”

“Heero, listen to yourself! You have lost control of your emotions. What is your problem?”

Heero's knuckles were white on the wheel. “He...” Heero blew out a breath, obviously trying to get himself once more under control. “He bothers me,” Heero admitted. “Something about him bothers me.”

“In other words, you find yourself interested in him.”

“No,” Heero argued vehemently. “Absolutely not. He could be Shinigami!”

“Heero, let's say he _is_ Shinigami. What about it?”

Heero gaped at him. “Are you serious? I thought you hated him as much as I do.”

“Eyes on the road, Yuy,” Wufei reminded him. Heero glared through the windshield. “I don't hate _him_ , necessarily. Just his style. I would rather he worked with the law instead of parallel to it. But I do not believe he is an enemy. He has helped us, after all.”

Heero gritted his teeth. Obviously, thinking such a thing didn't make him like the man any more. “So you don't have a problem with Shinigami.”

“Oh, I have a problem, all right,” Wufei said grimly. “He's working like a vigilante. If he wanted to be evil, he could hide himself completely and only help the perpetrators. But he doesn't. He shows himself for what he is, and the fear of being caught by him has stopped a lot of gangs. But he's still hiding in the shadows with the rest of the filth. It will inevitably rub off.” Then Wufei sighed. “But he isn't a suspect himself. And Duo is certainly not someone who belongs behind bars. No matter what he thinks about cops. On the other hand,” Wufei said with a smirk, “it may make it difficult for you to persuade him to go out on a date with you.”

“Wufei,” Heero hissed.

“You could try to get to know the man,” Wufei said softly. “You may be surprised just what kind of individual he is.”

“He's a criminal.”

“He's my friend.”

Heero knew that said a lot. Wufei's friendship was a rare and valuable thing. Wufei would die for his friends, but because of such a strong loyalty, he expected a lot from those he chose to protect. The fact that Duo Maxwell met those requirements meant that Duo had to be a good individual. Heero knew that. He also knew, without doubt, that Duo Maxwell was Shinigami.

And no matter how he felt about the man, he would never allow himself to be associated with a criminal. He would never be associated with anyone like those who took away Odin Lowe.

“I understand that, Wufei,” Heero murmured, “But I'm not–”

“I know. You are afraid.”

Heero hissed.

“Isn't it true? You are afraid, just as I was. Afraid to admit that the strict rules you created were maybe too strict. I created mine after my master was killed, apparently by the chief's men. I believe you made yours around a similar experience.”

Heero said nothing.

“Of course,” Wufei murmured. “But can you honestly say that Maxwell is evil?”

Heero's mind flashed back to that time two nights ago, pausing on the feel of Duo quivering in his arms. The warmth of his skin, the scent, the texture of his hair... he didn't want to think about it, yet the memory kept randomly merging itself with his mind, forcing him to replay it over and over again. He couldn't forget how Duo had launched himself into Heero's arms, clutching him close. In his fear, Duo had turned to him. The warmth that never failed to spread through him at that was unwelcome.

“Evil or not,” Heero began, but it seemed Wufei wanted to make up for his inability to speak earlier.

“What are the chances that Shinigami is assisting criminals?”

Heero didn't want to hear logic. Wufei sounded like a damn lawyer. “It isn't like you to defend a criminal.”

“That's just it, Yuy – I don't think he's a criminal.”

Heero blew out a breath. Wufei was going to be stubborn on this, same as he. But for once, they weren't on the same side. He felt ganged up on – Quatre had called Shinigami into this mess, and Barton had quickly taken his side. Now Wufei was contemplating Shinigami's innocence.

He wouldn't let himself be swayed. Shinigami was a criminal, a vigilante trying to make himself be seen as an on-line version of Batman. He wouldn't be Commissioner Gordon.

But did that make him another Harvey Bullock?

Okay, he grimaced, he was making comic book references. That was bad. “All right, we'll drop this subject for now.”

Wufei hummed in agreement.

“Let's go over what we know. G.O.S.H. and J have all been eliminated, for reasons still unknown.”

“Yes, and by what we assume to be an organization, again unknown.”

Heero sighed. “And they acted as copycats to the original murders executed by J and the other four.”

“Yes, the ones that manipulated us into this job.”

Heero frowned. “I don't see it that way.”

“Oh certainly I am proud to be where I am now, but I do understand that the main factor for my joining the force was because of my master's death. I had sworn to carry on his teachings.”

Heero didn't want to say it, but Odin Lowe's disappearance had made him finally decide that no one would live as alone as he had. “Hn.”

“But why would the five be killed? They must have a secret.”

“Yes. The same secret that had them-” Heero forced the word out “-manipulate us?”

“Most likely,” Wufei murmured. “Why else perform a copycat murder?”

“Yes. This other organization must _want_ us to know the truth.”

“To leave the destiny the five had made for us. It's plausible. I am certainly not inclined to pity them.”

This time it was Heero who hummed in agreement. More than Shinigami, he wanted to hurt those who had taken Lowe from him. But there was nothing he could do. They were dead, and their murderers were loose. First and foremost, he was a cop. He would get justice for the five men who didn't deserve it. “Yes. But why? And which side is good?”

“We need more information.”

Heero snarled. “ _We'll_ get it. Maybe there's a clue in J's name.”

“Another number?” Wufei asked, his voice sounding as if he was asking himself and not Heero.

Heero didn't bother to answer, because he wasn't completely certain himself. “We'll see.”

* * *

Duo waited until night shift had finished checking on him before he grabbed his clothes from the nearby table and slipped silently out the hospital window.

It took him all of ten minutes to find someone walking around with their cell phone hanging out of their purse and snatch it. He didn't have time to waste; his little stalker buddy had paid him another visit. He had to do something _now_.

He sent a quick text message to Heero Yuy and broke the cell phone into pieces, dumping each separate piece into different trash cans. They would be picked up in the morning, thank God, eliminating the chance of the police finding them and fingerprinting. Then he raced back to the hospital as quickly as possible. He hadn't been missed.

His head pounding, he changed back, placing his clothes exactly where they'd been before. He laid down in his bed, wincing at the pain, and slept.

* * *

Wufei was the one to grab Heero's cell phone and check the message. “Yuy, we got a message from Shinigami.”

“What?” The wheel jerked under Heero's hands. “What does it say?”

“'Romefeller.'”

Heero hissed. It immediately clicked – what the message must mean. “Rome Edgar Fellur. Of course. That bastard.”

“Who? Chief Fellur or Shinigami?”

“Both.” Heero wasn't happy. Just when Wufei and he had finished their meal and gotten back on topic, that bastard had to show them up once again. “Is there any trace of the call?”

“Actually, yes. I have the phone number right here.”

“What?” Heero turned his head to stare at the cell phone. A phone number? But how? Why? Shinigami could cover his tracks like no one Heero had ever seen before. So why did his phone clearly show a number from this district? “Duo.” Duo would never be able to use his computer. He would go out and use the first phone he snatched.

“Yes,” Wufei said quietly. “It would make sense. But you're missing something else.”

“And what would that be?” Heero asked.

“Think about it, Yuy. Why would he do this?”

Heero had to concede that Wufei had a point. Heero and Wufei would have gotten it eventually, and if not, Duo could have just waited until tomorrow afternoon or the day after to send the message anonymously. He cursed.

“Whoever Shinigami is,” Wufei said quietly, “he's being hunted.”

Heero hated the constriction that tightened his chest. If he was right and Duo _was_ Shinigami, then Duo was in danger. For once, he prayed he was wrong. “So Shinigami's being watched by someone. For what purpose? Does this someone want to take him out?” He couldn't think about whether Duo was in danger right now. If he did, he would turn his car around right now and...

“Perhaps.”

Heero's fingers were aching for the tight clench he had around the wheel. “If it's not Duo, there's no way we can help him. If it _is_ Duo...” God please don't let it be Duo. “If it _is_ Duo, then we'll have to watch out for him.”

“Yes.”

There was a lot more in that response than just a simple agreement. It was spoken so heatedly, so assuredly, Heero knew Wufei was just as determined to keep Duo safe as himself. But Wufei had chosen Duo to be his friend. It was normal for Wufei to worry about his friends. But for himself...

The protectiveness had surged that night when Duo had fought his tears in Heero's arms. He had never wanted spunky little Duo to tremble like that ever again. He'd felt a desire to kill, to drag the answers out of Duo and hunt whoever had scared him until he'd shot the man wherever he stood. It was uncharacteristic, and he didn't like it. It meant a loss of control, and that was never good.

“Well, we'll get information on Romefeller bright and early tomorrow morning,” Wufei said, sounding regretful. “We need to get our rest. The investigation is inevitably going to become more and more dangerous.”

Heero had to agree. “We're entering an underground war,” Heero murmured.

“Yes. And we have to choose the right side. It won't stay underground forever.”

Heero's face was grim. “No. It won't.”


	9. High Voltage

Things changed around five o'clock in the morning.

That was when a part of the hospital blew up.

More specifically, the part he'd been in no less than two hours ago.

Apparently a huge accident had occurred on the highway – odd for that time of night – and since he'd been about to leave, they moved him to a temporary overnight room instead of a room with a watch. That had put those poor crash victims straight into the line of his enemies' fire.

Nurses and doctors scrambled to try to save those in and around the explosion, but Duo already knew those in his room were dead. He felt relief and guilt flood him equally, but neither stopped him from reacting.

The nurses paid no notice of him except to say a quick, “everything's fine! Don't worry!” He nodded, then waited for the last nurse to pass his room. Then he stood and, for the second time that night, donned his own clothes.

With practiced ease, he escaped through the window. Whoever said hospital windows should be barred hadn't prepared for this situation. Either this hospital hadn't, or it had thought that barring the windows would be ridiculous. If only they knew.

Well, they would find out soon enough.

He didn't look back.

* * *

Heero sat up at the sound of the phone. If it was still this early, it had to be work. No one called him before he was awake, mostly because he had the habit of waking up merely a half-hour from now.

“Lieutenant Yuy.”

“There's been an explosion at the Burgundy Hospital.”

Heero stilled. He felt a tightening in his gut. Duo was in that hospital. “Casualties?”

It was the Chief of the Department on the line, three lines up from the lost Deputy Chief Fellur. “Yes,” he answered. Treize Khushrenada was known to always have the information. At least most of the time. Heero couldn't help but wonder if Khushrenada had seen any of Fellur's conspiracy.

“Who?” Heero didn't realize he wasn't breathing; all he knew was that the pain in his chest increased.

“I haven't received names yet. The doctors and nurses are horrified, though; it seems patients were in that room.”

“What room?” Heero's voice had dropped to a whisper.

“Room 214.”

Things warped in front of Heero's eyes. His mind, valued because of its analytical ability, absolutely blanked.

Duo's room.

“Yuy?”

Heero only then felt the pain in his hand as he gripped the receiver hard enough to break it. His head swam. Duo. Was he alive? No, whoever in that room... if he was the target...

Was he really Shinigami?

But the thought blipped into his head, one small, insignificant thought among the fear tearing him apart. Because if he'd been targeted by someone and they had bombed that room, there was no way he could still be alive. No way.

“Yuy?” Khushrenada repeated.

“I'm all right,” he managed. “I'll head over there immediately.”

Khushrenada wasn't falling for it, but he wasn't arguing, either. “Chang will be going with you.”

“Of course.” They were partners, after all.

Khushrenada made a noncommittal sound and hung up on him.

Heero couldn't put his phone down. Duo. Duo was...

That warm skin, those deep violet eyes. God. The scent. Everything was gone. In a blaze of fire and smoke, Duo was lost to him before Heero had truly managed to grab him.

He felt a hard stone in his heart. Whoever had killed him, Heero would make certain the man died. Preferably slowly.

Mechanically he hung up the phone, stood and dressed. He couldn't help but stare vacantly at the inside of his closet for a minute. There was nothing to see there but clothes and shoes, but he stared nevertheless. It was stupid, but he saw nothing. Nothing of any importance, at least.

His phone rang again.

He was vaguely surprised to find that he was dressed. He turned back to the phone and answered it on its second ring.

“Lieutenant Yuy.” His voice was dead.

“Heero, I just got in touch with the hospital. Maxwell had been moved to a different room.”

The words sank in slowly, but when they did, they broke through with a power that knocked him breathless. “Duo's all right?”

“Yes.” Wufei's voice echoed his own relief. “Of course that means that some other poor bastard had taken his hit, but...”

Heero felt, for the first time in his life, the sensation of having weak knees. “He's alive.”

“Yes, and the nurse told me that he had been fine on the last check-up. He should be in his room grumbling about not being informed on the situation.”

Heero nodded, relief still singing through his veins. Still, the foreboding inside him didn't dissipate. “He's Shinigami.”

Wufei hesitated, but he grudgingly agreed. “That's how it looks,” he said cautiously.

Heero knew he should be absolutely furious. Duo had played him multiple times, and he'd fallen for every single one. But he couldn't. There was no room for horror and outrage when there was so much sheer thankfulness inside him. “Then he'll be targeted again. And this time they'll be more careful.”

Wufei was quiet, as if he didn't want to speak. Then, “I don't want to break this moment, but you _do_ realize that you just showed concern for Shinigami... right?”

Heero jerked almost violently. “It's not like that,” he argued, but it was a completely useless argument. It was exactly like that.

“Are you telling me, then, that you weren't worried?” Wufei said dryly. He was making it clear that he already knew it would be a lie.

“No,” Heero argued. “It doesn't matter. We need to get down to the hospital.”

Wufei dropped that joke and let his voice firm, as well. “Fine. From what I was told, the fire company and a bomb squad have already made their way to the accident-”

“Accident,” Heero scoffed.

“I know,” Wufei said, his voice also fairly snide. “We know damn well it was no accident, but...”

Heero nodded. “I'm heading out. I'll meet you there.”

“All right. See you.”

Heero hung up the phone and strode out of the room, down the hallway, down the stairs, and straight to his hall closet, grabbing his coat. He snatched open the door and froze.

Duo stood on his doorstep.

* * *

Wufei was at the hospital looking around when he received a call.

He flipped it open, shocked to see Heero's number there. “Heero?”

“Duo's with me.”

Wufei froze. “He's what?!” he barked. “He's _supposed_ to be in the hospital. Wait.” He paused. “How does he know where you live?”

“I'll have to go there with you later. Call Khushrenada, tell him I'm held up with our potential witness. Get him to send someone else. Don't go in there on your own.”

“Any other orders you want to give me right now? Get you a drink, perhaps? Massage your feet?” He grimaced, however. The last thing he wanted to do was call Treize.

“Wufei,” Heero warned.

“Yes, yes.” he sighed. “Fine. Take care of him, Yuy. Don't jump down his throat; we need him.”

Heero growled. Obviously Wufei had just put a leash on him when he wanted to chomp freely on Duo's leg. “I'll let him live.”

“Gee, thanks, Mr. Wolf,” Wufei said dryly, using Heero's nickname around the station.

“I'll see you later.” Heero prepared to hang up.

“You'll see me later tonight,” he warned, just before he heard the tell-tale click. He sighed. He knew Heero heard him; Heero had probably expected it.

He stared at his phone in trepidation. He knew damn well he had to get someone else with him. It would be stupid to walk around without a partner. What if whoever had attacked was still here? It would be extremely stupid to walk in to this situation alone.

But...

Wufei snarled and punched in the number. He knew it, of course; he knew it from a long, long time ago. The bastard had never had it changed. Wufei didn't want to believe it was because he was waiting for Wufei to call him again.

But dammit, this was business.

The phone was picked up on the first ring, like the bastard had been waiting for his call. “Chief of Department Treize Khushrenada.”

“Treize.”

There was a short pause. “Ah. Wufei. To what do I owe the honor?”

Wufei caught the pun on that last word. It set his teeth on edge. “Yuy has a suspect in his home.”

Treize's voice sharpened abruptly. “And what is a suspect doing in Lieutenant Yuy's house?”

“He showed up there when he was about to leave.” Wufei wanted to rip the man's throat out. How dare he think that Heero was sleeping with a suspect?!

“Hm. Which of course means you need an escort.”

Wufei wanted to snarl. Escort. As if he were an actor. Or someone else who needed a bodyguard. Someone helpless. “I need a substitute partner.”

“Of course. I will be there in about twenty minutes.”

Wufei gaped like a fish. The phone was already silent. Treize was on his way. Treize. _The_ Treize.

He could handle that. No problem.

“Yuy, you bastard,” he hissed.

* * *

“What are you doing here?” he asked again, not at all for the first time.

Duo shrugged. “I figured by now hiding would be stupid.”

Heero's hands clenched into fists. “Meaning you _are_ Shinigami.”

“I have no doubts that you never stopped believing that.” Duo's eyes were sharp when they met his. There would be no more hiding. “I never wanted anyone to know,” he murmured, “but it looks like I don't have a choice. Even with my computer, I can't dodge explosions. At least, not forever.” He chuckled dryly. “Shit, I feel bad for the fuckers who got into that accident today.”

Heero had to sit down. He'd believed whole-heartedly that Duo was Shinigami. Still, having the man calmly sitting in his living room talking about his identity and the explosion that almost killed him... hell, he still wasn't quite over the shock of realizing that losing Duo Maxwell would destroy him so much. Let alone the weak-kneed relief he'd suffered through earlier. “Keep talking,” he ordered, his voice stronger than his nerves.

“I became Shinigami shortly after the destruction of the Maxwell Church. The warehouse I stayed in had an old computer. I found I had a knack for the thing. The neighboring businesses, though shitty, had wireless internet. Useful. I went to school – the free public school. Hacked into the system.” He shrugged again. “Then I went to the library and looked up everything I could about computers. I absorbed it all... like I'd been born to hack. I caught petty thieves in the area, got rid of them to make things safer for myself. I kept thinking that if I continued, eventually I would find the bastards who took away Father Maxwell and the Sisters.” His eyes were cold. “And I did.”

Heero nodded. It fit. It all fit. He didn't know whether to be pleased he now knew the truth or to be furious that he'd been jilted so many times. But the jilted reaction might seem a little bit too much like a lover who'd been left in the dark. That option didn't look too pleasing when looked at in that light.

Duo's eyes shifted around. He sat on the edge of the chair as if ready to spring to his feet. He didn't seem to trust Heero any more than he did whoever bombed his room. It put Heero's instincts on full alert. He shouldn't trust Duo, either. “It doesn't matter, I'm sure,” Duo said finally, “but I never helped the criminals.”

Heero snorted before he even realized what he was doing. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Nope,” he said with a bright grin. It threw Heero off, that big, wide smile. “Not at all. Actually, I didn't even expect you to let me sit here on your couch. I was ready to either bolt or be dragged to the station. I expect you're waiting for Wufei.” Duo's eyes shot to the door. “What's taking him so long? I know you called him...”

Heero had been out of the room at the time he'd made the call. He didn't bother asking how Duo knew; if he'd been willing to explain himself, he would have segued into the explanation on his own. Criminals tended to do that.

Of course, Duo wasn't exactly a conventional criminal. Still, he had to remind himself, he _was_ a criminal nonetheless. “Wufei was called to the hospital.”

A nod was all he got for giving Duo the information. “I see. I stopped you from joining him. Who is he calling for back-up?”

Heero didn't bother asking how Duo knew police procedures, either. “The Chief of Department.”

Duo smirked. “Poor bastard,” he murmured. Then louder, “what are you going to do with me?”

Heero had no fucking clue. “Who bombed that hospital?”

Here Duo's eyes got troubled. “That I don't know. One of J's little bastards is watching me, making sure I help you copperheads.” The insult flowed smoothly through those lips. There was no thought to it; it was an automatic term. Somehow that was just as bad. “But J just wants us to take down Romefeller. So it may have been an attack by their group. I can't be certain. Not even with my computer.”

Heero stood, unable to continue sitting on the couch with so much running through his head. He began pacing. “You sent the message to us just a few hours ago.”

“So Wufei _was_ there. I was banking on that.”

Heero grimaced. He hadn't meant to let that slip. The man was good. Damn good. Heero glared at him. “You were being watched then?”

“Right after I woke up in that hospital,” he confirmed. “J warned me he would send someone out to make sure I helped you.”

“You spoke to J.” He turned square-on to Duo. “When?”

“He was the one who ran me over.”

Heero wanted to take his hands and wrap them around that pretty little neck. “You said you couldn't remember.”

“I lied,” he said flippantly.

Without thinking, Heero spoke to hurt. “Do you have any idea how Wufei is going to react to this?”

Duo flinched slightly. “Yeah.” His voice was still bright and cheery, but the smile was a bit smaller. “He's going to be so pissed... he'll probably hate me forever.” He stood. “I came to tell you, to try to get this guy off my back. I felt his eyes all the way here. I won't be staying, of course. I'm going to try to get hidden. I'll find a computer somewhere and catch up with you.”

“You aren't going anywhere,” Heero snapped.

“Sure I am. You gonna hold me against my will, Lieutenant? Isn't that kidnapping?”

If he had to continue listening to that constantly-happy voice, he was going to lose what little patience he had left. He could feel it draining out of him. Only Duo could poke holes in his self-control. It was infuriating. “You _will_ stay here.”

“Nope,” he retorted cheerily. “Actually, I'm leaving. Tell 'Fei I said hi.” He turned to leave, then hesitated. “Actually, don't.”

“Duo.” Heero stepped forward, once more not thinking.

Duo paused. “Don't,” he whispered.

Heero moved behind him. He managed to retain enough control to not touch the man, but he was close enough to feel his heat, smell his skin. He closed his eyes and let the scent soak through his nostrils. Such a simple thing to miss, to fear losing for all eternity. They hardly knew each other. It was ridiculous. Absurd. Stupid, even. But undeniable. “You feel it,” he murmured.

“It doesn't exist,” Duo said sharply.

Heero wanted to say the same, but ignoring hard facts was blatant negligence of justice. He didn't indulge in it, even in times like this. “It does. We just don't like it.”

“Then destroy it,” Duo growled, moving away.

Heero grabbed his arm, holding him in place. Duo swung his head around in fury, making that braid swing like a whip. Heero glared down into those fierce violet eyes. He saw the fear in them, deep below the surface. He wouldn't take advantage. Not tonight. “We're here to save, not destroy.”

“Sometimes the only way to save is to destroy,” Duo hissed. “Don't you know anything about roses, Mr. Yuy?” With that, he wrenched himself free and slid to the door. “Good-bye, Lieutenant. I'll be in touch.”

“I'll see you soon,” he returned. Duo didn't even bother retorting to that.

Heero watched that door shut with an odd sense of trepidation. Despite everything, the fear of Duo in danger made his gut clench. He needed to get himself under control, and fast.

* * *

Wufei watched that sleek black Porsche sidle up next to his cop car and ground his teeth together. Treize was never inconspicuous, was he? It would serve him right if some dumb bastard decided to shoot the damn car full of holes. Wufei would laugh in delight.

Of course, it didn't happen.

Treize slid out with that same smooth elegance that had initially captured Wufei's attention. _I was young_ , he reminded himself. _And stupid._

“Wufei.” Treize was in a suit – a fucking _suit_ – and had that superior smile on his face. Wufei wanted to spit on him. How could the man still look so attractive to him? He'd decided to go straight. He'd always found elegance and beauty in both men and women. Surely, he'd thought, it would be simple to go completely straight.

Damn Treize. It was just another nail in the bastard's coffin.

“Well.” Treize moved around his car and came up to the sidewalk where Wufei waited. He stopped right in front of Wufei, still smiling down at him. Wufei had to look up to maintain his own stare. He felt Treize's body warmth. Dammit. “You look good in the moonlight.”

Recollection slammed through Wufei. He'd heard those words from those lips before. “We're on duty,” he reminded his superior coldly.

“Of course.” That superiority morphed into outright arrogance. “We can duel afterwards.”

The term duel had changed a few weeks after Wufei had suffered his first humiliating defeat at the man's hands. Wufei glared. “That was a long time ago.” _And it won't happen again._

“As I recall, it was only three years ago.”

Wufei wanted to snarl, but he managed to swallow it back. “As I said. A long time ago.”

That infuriating smile never wavered. “I see.”

Wufei shivered slightly. Treize had this way of lowering his voice that made Wufei's interest stand at attention. It was smooth and charming – just like the man. After all these years, Wufei had learned to trust his analytical skills and political maneuvering. But he couldn't trust the man personally. Not after...

“Shall we go?” Treize swept his hand before him, indicating the chaos surrounding the Burgundy Hospital.

As if _Treize_ had been waiting for _him_. Wufei scowled. He also knew that accepting Treize's cavalier invitation to go first would place him solidly as submissive. “Fine,” he replied, but he didn't move forward.

That damn smile quirked itself into a grin. “Hm...” Treize let it go, allowing Wufei to walk beside him. Wufei knew it was a victory of sorts, since Treize never allowed anyone dominance over his life. Still...

He didn't want to be working with him.


	10. In The End

It was strange to find himself walking the streets looking for a place to crash for the rest of the day. It brought back bad memories, memories he'd thought had faded. Memories he couldn't take the time to be distraught by.

Things were escalating. That hadn't been his little stalker. The man had done nothing more than follow him to Heero's place, even though he specifically took a short-cut through an alley. No, that man hadn't been the one targeting the hospital. That left the Romefellers.

What the hell did that group want? He needed to be able to check on them, to see what was happening. He needed a huge fucking computer to be able to handle the hacking jobs most likely necessary to get in, too. But he couldn't go back for his. Which meant, most likely, he would have to find a secret place, hide the IP Address, and set up communications with the Police Department to talk them through the paces. That reeked a bit; the last thing he wanted to do was share his skills with the copperheads. Especially since it meant giving the police the credit that was due _him_.

Still, it was better than doing nothing but running.

He felt a change around him and realized his stalker wasn't behind him anymore. Duo paused for a split second. In an alley then, waiting for him. He stopped walking altogether, put his hands in his pockets. He took on a light tone. “I know you're in there, waiting.” His eyes turned to the alleyway to his left.

A low chuckle. “I see. You truly are a rat, aren't you? Able to sniff out anything.”

Duo smiled. “That would be a dog, jackass.”

The man materialized from the darkness of the alley's shadows. “I suppose so,” he said simply. “And you. What do you plan to do?”

Duo didn't let his fury place itself on his face. “Same as I have been, only even more low-key. I'm Shinigami – I know how to disappear.”

“That won't help the investigation,” the man pointed out.

“No, but my follow-up will.” Duo rocked back on his heels. “Hey, why don't you do something useful with yourself and, I don't know, leave me alone?”

The man only shook his head. “I don't think so.” A quick glance around the area distracted the man for a moment. Duo knew what the man would see – trash. The place was pure trash in this man's eyes. Deserted streets, populated alleys. Garbage cans were the only décor from the dilapidated brick buildings. He would never understand the life around this sort of place, the constant hum of adrenaline in the veins. Alleys were safer – there were usually more escapes. Leaving yourself open here was stupid.

Duo was counting on that stupidity right now.

“Mr. Maxwell, I don't think you fully understand the situation you're in.”

Duo caught sight of movement behind his little stalker and had to bite back a grin. “Don't I?”

“You should know. Isn't that why you broke away from Lieutenant Yuy? You don't want to get too close.”

Duo's need to hide his smile vanished. It was true – he was Shinigami, after all. All he could give to another was death – or justice. And with his stalker-imp tied to his hip, he couldn't exactly attempt to give anyone anything else. Still... good. His unwitting friends were in position.

“Listen, you damn cop,” he suddenly yelped, “leave me the fuck alone!”

His stalker's face switched quickly from surprise to confusion to fury and immediately back to shock. Rule of the streets: take down the cops first.

Duo shot off into the alleyway while the gang jumped his stalker. He threw himself down side alley after side alley. The sounds of fighting faded behind him. He didn't have time to see who won; he had to be quick. His stunt might make his stalker take his revenge on Heero. He needed something concrete on either Romefeller or J's man if he was to keep Heero Yuy safe.

He turned sharply, using the brick wall as a launching pad. He had to wonder, of course, if Heero Yuy wanted anything more to do with him. The two hardly knew each other. Duo shouldn't have been so upset with the idea of Heero's... well, not rejection, but that was the word that came to mind.

He couldn't forget Heero's strong arms around him. It had been his fault, of course. He'd thrown himself into Heero's embrace. He'd shuddered and fought back tears. He'd shown weakness to a lieutenant in the police force. Stupid.

But he'd enjoyed those arms wrapped around him.

He finally had to stop, out of breath and heaving. He slid seamlessly into the shadows and hid within a small crevice, almost impossible to enter, but it still had four exits, so it was safe. Each corner of the long-abandoned garage had worn away over time.

Then he sat down and quickly began forming a plan.

* * *

Now that he'd sat down and given himself time to think about it, he was absolutely furious.

Duo Maxwell really _was_ Shinigami. Son of a fucking bitch. He was the one. Heero had cornered him _twice_ and the damn man had managed to squirm his way out of suspicion. And still, in the end, that man had been Shinigami. And only when everything had crashed around him – only when the bastard had made his escape – had he deigned to inform Heero about his secret identity.

Hell, for all Heero knew, Duo had been the one to blow the hospital's second-floor D-Block to hell.

No. He felt his insides churn. No, he knew that wasn't true. Because he and Wufei had already figured out that someone or something was targeting Duo. _That_ person was the one who had struck the hospital. _That_ person was the immediate problem.

That person... was after Duo's life.

Yes, for some reason he couldn't shake the worry. It was no doubt that Duo was in danger, and the fool had just run off to nowhere while Heero was still trying to get his head screwed on straight. Granted he hadn't reacted well, but he'd had the carpet ripped out from underneath him. But now Duo was out there alone without any protection, without any police training, and there was nothing Heero could do because Duo Maxwell was Shinigami, a vigilante and a potential criminal.

His doorbell rang.

Heero was dimly aware that he'd been running a trail though his carpet. He stopped his mindless pacing and answered the door.

As expected, Wufei stood before the door. Unexpectedly, he was grimacing. He seemed about ready to explode into tiny pieces. Tiny, very frustrated pieces.

“Wufei?” He stepped aside, allowing the poor man entrance. He immediately shrugged out of his coat and wordlessly took Heero's place on the carpet.

“Damn that man,” Wufei muttered, lost in his own problems.

Heero cocked his head to the side, considering. “Treize?”

“Of course,” Wufei grumbled. Then he paused and looked around as if just then realizing where he was. “Where's Duo?”

Heero closed his eyes briefly. He'd known this was coming; he just hadn't wanted to get into it. “He's Shinigami. He admitted it.”

“So, what? You have him cuffed to the kitchen table?” Wufei moved toward the kitchen as if he truly believed Heero capable of doing that.

“Of course not,” he scoffed softly. At his tone, Wufei turned back to him. “Wufei.” He closed the door carefully, not bothering to look out. He didn't feel eyes on him anymore. “Duo stopped by to give me some information… and then he left.”

“He left?” Wufei charged back to him, eyes blazing. “You let him walk away?!”

“I couldn't hold him, Wufei. We have no concrete evidence that Shinigami is a criminal, remember?” Heero wasn't pleased about any of this, either. “He _did_ manage to inform me of… a few interesting points.”

“But he _is_ Shinigami.” There it was; the hurt and disappointment. Heero couldn't protect his partner from that.

“Yes.”

Wufei nodded once, a sharp jerk, and then sat down heavily on Heero's sofa. “I… see.”

“Wufei.” Heero moved over to stand before his partner. Those dark eyes were troubled, unsure. There was a long, pained silence before Wufei finally managed to speak.

“What did you learn?”

Heero understood the tone. It was one he'd heard only a couple of times before, when Wufei had returned from private meetings with Chief of Department Khushrenada. It sounded suspiciously of pain tightly controlled. Heero couldn't do much about that, either. But he could try. “First things first: Duo.”

“You like him.”

Just that phrase was enough to make Heero's jaw snap. “Not what I meant,” he grated out.

“But enough to help you understand how I feel right now.”

Heero had to concede that point. Right now, thinking about Duo as Shinigami was... hard. He couldn't let himself ponder it too hard. “Fine. But Duo did more than tell me about his identity.”

Wufei nodded. “Helping us?” He sounded unsure.

Heero couldn't imagine the hurt Wufei was feeling. The man rarely put his trust in anyone. He would even be berating himself for his decision to befriend Duo. His integrity, so very important to him, would be suffering severe blows.

Heero walked up to his partner and put a hand on his shoulder. It made Wufei look up and meet his eyes. “Wufei… it's as you said. He isn't evil.”

Wufei grimaced. “Yes, but that I was so wrong about him…”

Heero thought about it, then decided he might as well say it. “He values your friendship, Wufei.” At Wufei's questioning look, he continued. “He showed regret at hurting you. There was pain in his eyes when he said he thought you would hate him for this.”

Wufei's eyes were oddly easy to read. Heero could plainly see conflicting emotions – anger, fear, sadness. “What did he say exactly?”

Heero sighed. “I… got angry and asked him how he thought you would take this. He had been smiling at me like a fucking clown before that, but it seemed to fall away for a second. Then he said he knew... that you would probably hate him forever.”

Wufei grimaced. “Sounds like him.” He straightened himself, stood. Paced. “What did he tell you?” he asked finally.

“First… Wufei, he knew who'd run him over.”

Wufei turned, his eyes flaring. “What? Who?”

Heero rocked back on his heels. Despite everything, Heero could plainly see the protective fury in those eyes. Duo had been wrong – Wufei was hurt, upset. Confused. But Wufei didn't hate him. Not at all. “J.”

Wufei digested that with lightning-speed. “Chief Fellur?” Wufei seemed to be testing the name as if it were stuck on his gums. “Chief Fellur ran Duo over?”

“Yes. And sent a spy to keep watch over him. Apparently J wants us to work together to take down Romefeller.”

Wufei began pacing again. Heero followed his movements with his eyes. He couldn't sit; almost resented Wufei for pacing before he could; it would be ridiculous if they both paced while they talked. “The chief sent a spy on Duo. Then was the spy the one who targeted Duo just now?”

Heero shook his head. “No. Duo believes it was Romefeller itself that bombed that hospital, and I would have to agree. If J believes we can take out Romefeller, then it makes sense for Romefeller to try to take _us_ out. And the one easiest to target is Duo, seeing as he's not a part of the force and was, at the time, recuperating in the hospital.”

Wufei nodded, most likely having already come to a similar conclusion. “Then what the hell do we do? Where did Duo go?”

Heero shook his head. “I don't know.”

Wufei growled. “Goddammit! If only that bastard hadn't fucking taken so long...” Suddenly Wufei blushed, scowling at his own action. “I may have gotten here in time...”

Heero scowled himself. “I hadn't been able to ask him everything I want to know. He'd blindsided me. And I could swear that damn grin was made to piss me off.” Wufei chuckled. “What?”

Wufei chuckled. “Well, at least _someone_ can get under your skin.” At Heero's dark scowl, he changed the subject. “So? What else did he tell you?”

“He didn't. He just left.”

“So now he's out there without protection, just as you said.” Wufei's feet almost pounded into Heero's floor. “Dammit.”

Heero hated the concern in his gut. He would much rather continue being pissed. “He _did_ say he never helped the criminals.” There was cynicism in his voice, an easy sign that he didn't believe it.

Wufei frowned. “He said that?” His voice, on the other hand, seemed to be considering it. He hesitated before saying, “He never lies…”

“Wufei,” Heero said sharply. He understood his friend's pain, yes, but he wouldn't let Wufei steer himself down the wrong path.

But Wufei shook his head. “He doesn't lie, he just skirts around the truth. Did he ever say he _wasn't_ Shinigami?”

Heero stepped forward as if to deck his partner. “Of course he–” But he had to stop, had to think about it. “Goddamn it,” he murmured, thinking it over. He'd feigned ignorance, he'd led them onto a different path. But he'd never outright denied it. Heero couldn't remember exactly what Duo had said, couldn't remember each individual word and phrase. But he thought Wufei may be right. “Then,” he argued, switching tactics, “how do you know he's not skirting around the truth this time, as well?”

“Was that exactly how he'd put it? 'I never helped the criminals'?” Wufei asked.

Heero thought back, nodded. “I believe so.”

Wufei nodded, stopping his pacing. “Then I believe he didn't.” But Wufei's voice was still unsure, as if he didn't know whether he should put any faith in Duo. And Duo had known it would happen. Heero gritted his teeth and fought the urge to defend him. Because Heero didn't trust him, either.

He glared out of his window into the light of day. It played on the grass in his yard, shone into his living room. He wondered whether it could touch Duo, wherever he was.

Then he turned away, disgusted at the poetic nonsense. “Well, we need to get on this case, too. Look over forensics, evidence. What was found, what wasn't. Who wasn't.” A gut-clenching thought. “Who was.”

Wufei nodded. “I'll meet you at the precinct.”

Heero nodded and grabbed his coat. Wufei, he noticed belatedly, had been so disturbed he'd never taken his off. He watched his friend leave, shook his head. Hell. They were a mess.

* * *

He couldn't wait until night came. He hadn't seen his little stalker friend since he'd gotten the man off his back, but that could only be because he'd hidden himself. He couldn't take the chance that the man had gotten pissed and had decided to counterattack. He moved, leaving the safety of the dilapidated garage for the alleys. It took about half an hour, but he managed to get to his old lodgings. He doubted the computer was still there. And if it was, he doubted the businesses – if they even still existed – had the wireless internet still.

But when he entered that old building, even worse the wear than he remembered, he saw that old piece-of-shit computer taking up its usual space in the darkest corner. A pile of dust coated it, but Duo cleaned it with loving care. When he was done, he was rewarded with a low hum when he pushed the power button.

It took the computer a minute or two to start up, and it wheezed at the trouble. Duo took the couple of hours to scan the computer for viruses and otherwise help the poor thing out. He couldn't afford to have the thing break down, internet or no. This place had been his sanctuary before. He'd dug, with his own hands, underground paths to up the exits from three to five. He probably wouldn't be able to fit into those two any more, but the feeling of security hadn't dissipated. He would return here.

But after the clean-up was done, he returned to the computer to see that there was, thank God, a wireless internet available. And, he found – to his immense amusement – that there wasn't even a password needed to use it. He turned it on and rerouted the computer's coordinates. It took two hours, the modem choking angrily, for it to be done. Then he prepared a message for the precinct.

* * *

“So, in the end, there's no evidence.” Trowa threw down the file in disgust.

Quatre bit his lip. “I wonder if…” But he glanced quickly over at Wufei and Heero and held his tongue.

Heero turned away from the others, knowing Quatre had been about to speak about Shinigami – Duo. They sat around an interview table, their files spread across the top in what a passerby would call chaos. He sighed. “He has his own problems right now.”

Wufei said nothing.

Trowa glared at the files again. Pictures of the five planned murders, the five more recent deaths, and their own little selves outlined the reports. Trowa had earlier speculated on why they'd been left in charge after J's death; Quatre had said it may go higher up. Any and all attempts to ask Khushrenada about it were burned down by Wufei.

Heero stared at the reports, but he already knew every word. They still had no idea what Romefeller wanted, let alone how to take it down. It was an enormous business conglomerate, untouchable – even perhaps _with_ evidence. They were at a stalemate. Again.

Trowa snorted. “This is ridiculous. There are still things we can do. Stake out Romefeller, for one. Find Du… Shinigami, for another.” He stood. “Quatre and I will do the latter. Will you and Wufei watch Romefeller?”

Heero nodded. “That's fine.” He turned to Wufei and stood, as well. Maybe the two of them could come up with something while they waited. “In the meantime, the computer guys should be able to-” He stopped at a small beeping noise. A text message to his cell phone? He scowled and pulled it out.

Just as he'd thought. Duo was contacting him.

“What does it say?” Wufei asked, voice quiet. He looked up from his seat, eyes guarded. It was the first time he'd spoken in over ten minutes.

Heero read it out loud. “'Call me.'” He glared at the screen. “There's a number.”

“Rerouted, of course,” Wufei murmured.

“How?” Quatre asked. “We still have his computer.”

Heero ignored them both and punched in the digits, scowling at the wall as it rang. After three rings, it was picked up.

“Hi. You secure?”

Heero's fist clenched. The bastard. Obviously Heero had worried about him for nothing. “Yes.”

“Great. Put this on speaker. You're with your partners, correct?”

Heero didn't answer, just punched the button for speaker. “Done.” He set the thing in the middle of the table, lying on top of the notes.

“Hello.”

“Duo.” Wufei spoke first, standing, looking down at the phone like it might bite him.

There was a pause from the other end of the line. “Hi there, Wufei.” The voice was soft, less sure. Then, “do you have anyone who can use the computer worth dick?”

Heero saw Wufei sway a bit. He seemed confused. Lost, upset. He took control. “We all know basic computer skills.”

“Right.” Another slight pause. “One of you will need to get onto my computer.”

Heero paused, shocked. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Even from the phone Heero could hear the exasperation in Duo's sigh. “I meeeaaaannn,” he drolled, “soooommmeoooonnnne haaaaaaassss to geeeeeettt–”

“I _meant_ ,” Heero snapped, interrupting Duo's smart-ass response, “why do you want us to get on your computer?”

“I don't,” Duo replied shortly. “But you have it and I don't. It would be best if I stayed hidden. And Lieutenant...” He hesitated. “Watch your back. You may be the next target.”

Heero frowned. “Me?”

“Hm,” Duo hummed in affirmation. “So watch your back.” He moved on. “I need one of you on my computer. Is it in a secure place?”

Heero heard the worry in Duo's voice. It was like he was asking about his child. Quatre was the one who answered this time. “Yes.”

A slight pause. “Ah. Winner?”

Quatre blushed. “Uh, yeah.”

“Huh. You have a nicer voice than the others. Anyway, make sure you're alone, then call me back.”

“Duo!” Wufei cried.

There was silence on the other end of the line, but Heero heard no click. The timer on his cell kept going.

“Duo, I…” Wufei's fists clenched. “I don't…” He closed his eyes and bowed his head. “I… trust you.”

The silence continued for a moment. “Thank you,” Duo said finally, his voice whisper-soft. “I won't let you down again.”

There was a click, and the call ended.

* * *

Duo put his phone down and cried.


	11. What I've Done

“In the end, there's nothing we can do yet,” Heero sighed.

Wufei was silent.

Heero glanced at him, then turned to stare out the windshield again. So far, staking out Romefeller was turning into a complete waste of time. “You're worried about him.”

Wufei snorted. “You aren't?”

Heero grimaced. “He can handle himself.”

Wufei was silent for a moment. “That's not the point.”

No, Heero supposed. It wasn't. “I doubt Quatre and Trowa will find him.”

Wufei grunted. “He grew up on the streets. He knows how to keep himself hidden.”

They were quiet for a few more minutes, each thinking their own thoughts. Finally Heero sighed, shifting in his seat. “Did you speak the truth back then?”

“Hm?”

His cobalt gaze turned to the side window. There was nothing new to see; no one was leaving. Either they'd missed the time for employees to leave or everyone was working extremely late. Like them, he thought sardonically. “In the interview room.” When Duo had spoken to them over Heero's cell phone.

“Oh.” A short silence. “Yes.”

“So you really do trust him?”

Wufei sighed. “I... suppose.”

Heero merely turned and raised his brow.

“Fine, fine,” Wufei huffed. “I... want to trust him. I want to believe in him. Even though I feel like I've... made a bad choice in friends...” He smiled slightly, but it had no humor in it, “in the end, a part of me feels like I was still right about Duo. That even though I didn't know who he was,” Heero noted that Wufei had trouble calling Duo Shinigami, “I still knew his personality, his characteristics. And that I'd based my friendship on that. He hadn't let me down before this. Maybe...” He sighed again. “But maybe I'm just being too hopeful.”

Heero glared out the windshield some more, wishing he weren't hopeful, too. “In any case, he-”

Heero's cell phone rang.

He picked it up, scowled. “Duo,” he snarled. He flipped it open as Wufei gasped.

“None of you are in the police building,” he chirped cheerily as way of greeting.

“What the hell are you-” Heero started, but Duo cut him off.

“I told you that I needed one of you on my computer, but this is better.” He paused for a moment. “Hey, Hee-chan, you'd better watch out. Are you breaking your phone?”

Heero's grip had turned vice-like, that was true enough. He growled and revved up his engine.

“Yuy?” Wufei asked.

“He's at the precinct,” he snapped. Wufei's eyes widened.

“I figured, since I'm going to hell, might as well make the path clearer,” he sang brightly. Heero's hand on the wheel should have turned the thing to dust. “Man, you should see what Romefeller _wants_. Unbelievable.” He tsked. “I don't know if giving you guys the commands would have gotten you in, though. It was hell for me, and I'm a genius.”

Heero could hear the bastard's cocky grin over the phone. “Wait there for me to get to you,” he growled.

“Dude, are you kidding me? I just admitted to breaking into the police station. Lemme think about that – oh, yeah. Not staying. Hell, I'm already out. And leaving... leaving... hehe. Gone.” And the phone went dead in Heero's ear.

“Duo, dammit!” Heero glared at the dead screen of his cell phone, then closed it and threw it to the side in disgust. Wufei picked it up and stared at Heero in confusion.

“He's at the precinct?” he murmured. Heero heard Wufei's emotions plainly – regret being foremost.

“Was,” Heero corrected grimly. “He took the chance to go in while we weren't there.”

Wufei cocked an eyebrow. “But there are cops in that precinct twenty-four-seven.”

Heero shrugged. “He apparently got past them. From what I could understand – that bastard was laughing at me again – he has information waiting for us.”

Wufei grimaced. “Of course – we can't move without him, can we?” He slammed his fist against the window. “Of course – this is ridiculous. We need him, but he's...” He clenched his eyes shut and just shook in anger.

Heero wanted to do the same, but his mind had just clicked onto a path he wished it wouldn't tread. “That's it, Wufei,” he said suddenly, startling his partner. Wufei turned to look back at him. “That's it,” he repeated, “that's exactly it. That's why the chief put us all together, why Duo had to be included. We can defeat any enemy, either with firepower, intellect, or even with Quatre's understanding of human nature. But we can't do a damn thing without Duo.” It set Heero's teeth on edge, admitting that. “He's the one who would tell us where to go, the one to show us our enemies' weaknesses. _That's_ why he's so necessary.”

Wufei let himself think about it. “It's true enough,” he murmured. And it was – Duo Maxwell was a definite asset. “But is he good or bad?”

Heero frowned at that. “We can't know. He's just broken into our station, but he did it to help us out on our search. He's acted as a vigilante, but he's brought countless into custody.” Heero snarled. “I don't understand him.”

Wufei seemed to agree; he nodded with lips turned down. “We need to talk to him.”

Heero snorted. “We need to _catch_ him.”

* * *

Duo walked away from the station as if he hadn't just committed a fairly unintelligent break-in. Then he dumped his cell phone in the trash, just in case, and headed in the opposite direction.

His little stalker had found him again and was silently tailing him. Duo let him without comment; as long as the man was watching him, he wasn't hunting down Heero Yuy. As long as that truth persisted, he would let the slimy little bastard ooze around him. It wasn't like he wasn't aware of the man. It wasn't like Duo couldn't stay one step ahead. It just meant that life would only be that much harder for him.

But that was fine – he was used to it.

More importantly, he'd seen what Romefeller had planned. It was insane, impossible. A business company, turning to war for dominance? Ridiculous. That didn't happen in the real world. It was like a bad suspense movie.

Duo sighed at the thought of it. How were they – five men – supposed to stop an entire organization? Bullshit. It couldn't be done.

But then he had to think of Father Maxwell and Sister Helen, of the horror of watching them be cut down in the name of peace. To bring about an eventual harmony in the world. Their deaths for hundreds? Sure, many would call that an acceptable loss. But he couldn't. He could never accept their deaths as a sacrifice for a higher cause.

“Well,” he muttered finally, “it may not be possible, but hell if I'm going to let this go on without me doing something about it.”

In his mind, the deaths of the five scientists were entirely justifiable. They had ordered the deaths of his loved ones – and had done so again, except Heero Yuy was _not_ a loved one.

He sighed. He was being stupid again.

He made his way back to his little hideout, deathly aware of his stalker. No one else followed him to the dilapidated building, but when he arrived, his little friend came closer.

“Try that again,” the man said as way of greeting, “and I'll kill him.”

He shrugged. “I needed some 'me' time.” He turned to the man, unwilling to leave his computer in the open for the man to attack it. It was the only thing he had right now. “What do you want?”

“You went to the precinct,” the man said.

Duo cocked an eyebrow. “I know.”

The man looked irritated then. Angry. “Then why didn't you stay?”

Duo laughed right in the man's face. “If you didn't notice, I'd just broken into a building dedicated to the enforcement of the law. Ironic... and stupid. But I needed my computer – this one wasn't cutting it. So I went and used my computer for a moment. My property, dammit.” He shrugged it off, but it rankled, needing to break in to a building to get his own damn things. “I gave the copperheads a pretty little tip, too – see? I'm being all cooperative and shit.”

The man's frown didn't dissipate, but he didn't argue, either. Duo took that as a good sign. “So? Go away. I have work to do.”

The man shook his head. “I'm not leaving this spot.”

Duo didn't like the idea of having the man behind him, but if he was here, then there was no way in hell he could be targeting Heero... Duo sighed and turned. His back itched like a mother, exposing it to the enemy. It would serve him right if he got stabbed in the back. “Suit yourself. _I'm_ busy.” He went over to the ancient computer and turned it on. It whirred on with enough noise to rival the pit bulls battling to the death across the street.

Only a half an hour later, the computer managed to get all of Duo's security working and wheezed out a message informing him that his site had received mail. Five more minutes got the pathetic thing onto the site and reading the note, sent by one most likely pissed-beyond-redemption Lieutenant Yuy.

_We need to meet._

A thousand snappy comebacks entered Duo's head, but he fought them all back and typed in a simple enough message in return.

_No._

See if he figured it out this time.

Then he folded his fingers together, stretched out his arms and cracked his knuckles. “Let's see what we can do,” he muttered, and let his fingers fly.

* * *

“He's near,” Quatre told Trowa.

Trowa said nothing about Quatre's odd behavior, leaning forward and rubbing his head like some wannabe psychic. Quatre appreciated, more than anything else, Trowa's calm acceptance. The man never seemed ruffled, always stable, always in control. Quatre thought the man could easily stand through a stampede with the same unruffled assurance. “How much farther? Can you guess?”

Quatre furrowed his brow in concentration. “I can't... it's so hard. Duo hides his emotions so deeply, I don't know if even he recognizes them. And there's something there. Someone interfering.” Quatre frowned. “It might be a bad guy…”

Trowa didn't react in any visible way but a small thinning of his lips. “We can safely assume,” he said, “that he's being watched. Since he grew up on the streets, he should know of such a situation.”

Quatre nodded. “It just makes it – aah!”

“Quatre!”

Trowa hit the brakes and carefully touched Quatre's shoulder. The man's concern was in tight rein, but the feel of it, small as it was, was still enough to comfort him. “I-I'm okay. It's just... something's changed.”

“What?” He sat up straight again and slowly revved the car back into motion. Quatre didn't pay attention to the dilapidated buildings that slid past them. He only felt the overall sense of despair and desperation that hung on every brick.

“The bad guy's moving. His aura is completely different.” Quatre shivered. “He's planning something... Trowa, we have to hurry!”

Quatre could tell it was completely unintentional when Trowa's hand came and lightly clenched Quatre's. The man didn't even seem to notice what he was doing. His eyes never moved from the road, his hand never faltered on the steering wheel. His emotions, as well, hadn't fluctuated at all. Quatre didn't comment. He just tightened his own grip on Trowa's fingers, taking solace in Trowa's presence.

“Just a little further,” he murmured again.

* * *

Duo felt the change in the air just as the man stepped forward. He cursed; he was trapped within the building. Ignoring the research he'd been collecting, he stood straight and turned to face his stalker. “You have something to say to me?”

The man didn't seem happy with Duo's sarcasm. “Your efforts in assisting the others has been weak. I've stood back, but this cannot continue. Your job is to help the four-”

“I _am_ helping,” Duo told the man. “If you didn't notice, I'm a criminal. I would be arrested if I attempted to make contact with Heero and Wufei and the others. Instead, here I am, all useful and whatnot, noticeably _not_ in jail. And see? I've already found plenty of information of Romefeller. So what exactly is your problem?”

The man snarled. “This is ridiculous! I've had enough of your hiding!” The man pulled out his gun.

Duo didn't even flinch. The man wouldn't shoot him dead, and he wouldn't shoot him in any vital spots. The worst he had to look forward to was a good load of pain. “Hiding? That's what I do. If J didn't like my methods, then he should have chosen someone else.”

“Don't you dare question Dr. J!”

“You're the one questioning him,” Duo said with a negligent shrug.

“Dammit.” The man was trembling in his anger. Duo was in serious danger, he could tell that much. But he had no ability to harm this man. If he did… “You useless bastard. You'd better do something before the day is out, or else I'll do more than threaten.”

Duo didn't doubt the man's sincerity. But when the man calmed down enough, would he still want to attack Duo, or would he go after Heero? Either way, he couldn't mention it. It would prove his concern for Heero, and that would show far too much vulnerability. “Yeah, yeah. Then stop interrupting me.” And he turned back to his computer.

* * *

“There!” Quatre pointed to the right, around the corner from where Trowa idled on the lonely road. Trowa didn't hesitate to pull around the corner.

“Where?” he asked simply. Only then did he let go of Quatre's hand, and he seemed surprised to feel the cold of the air against the skin. He cleared his throat. “Well?”

“Umm...” The flash of fear in Duo's heart had dissipated, caught under tight control once again. But it wasn't completely gone. It was what Quatre had felt off and on all day, what seemed to be the most dominant feeling. Did Duo know he was in serious danger from whoever was watching him? Did he expect an attack? Had the man confronted him? “The left, I think. That building.”

“The one with no door?” Trowa asked, carefully driving past the building.

“That's right.” Going right past it, Quatre could Feel it, stronger than ever. “He's definitely in there. And something just happened.”

“Is he hurt?”

How, Quatre wondered, could this man not be afraid or disturbed or annoyed by his words? How could he believe what Quatre was telling him? “No, I don't think so,” he said in answer to Trowa's question. “It seems the danger's blown over, at least for now.”

“Good. Then we'll park a block away and move in.”

Quatre nodded. “But what if… what if he had a good reason for leaving us?”

Trowa snorted slightly, never taking his eyes off the road. “You mean _besides_ the fact that he's a wanted man?”

Quatre nodded. “Yes. There's something odd going on…” He bit his lip. Would it be repugnant to Trowa, all this talk that seemed so ridiculous? “I can't say what, though. It doesn't make any sense.”

Trowa nodded. “All right, then.”

Quatre cast a troubled glance on Trowa. Was he disgusted? Horrified? Or was it different – did he find Quatre practically insane? He couldn't tell. Trowa's emotions never changed. It was as if they were discussing the weather. It was odd. With this man, Quatre couldn't always tell what he was feeling. It was a disturbing change.

Trowa pulled over to the side, and only then did Quatre realize they'd reached the end of the block. He unbuckled his seat belt and began to open his door.

“Check your gun.”

Quatre turned to Trowa, still sitting, seatbelt also unbuckled, double-checking his pistol.

Trowa's hair blocked Quatre's full view of the man's face, but still he could see the lean shape of his cheeks, the tilt of his eye, and he felt his heart thump in response. He sighed. “You're right.” He pulled out his gun and carefully checked the cartridge.

* * *

Duo was deadly aware of the man's presence at his back. It made his shoulders itch; it made his spine stiffen. Still, as long as the man remained behind him...

“The sun is setting,” the man told him.

“That's nice,” he responded airily.

“You only have a few more hours before time's up.”

Duo considered ignoring him, but the danger of it was too high. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I still have a couple more things to find, then I'll give them another little message.” He grinned widely. “I wonder how they'll react this time?” A short chuckle, then, “Heero'll be pissed again, I'm sure. That guy's too easy.”

Duo felt another change. He realized a second too late just what he'd said. “You'd better hurry if you want to be able to speak to that man again.”

He gritted his teeth. “Why does everyone think I'm fucking _gay?”_ he demanded, letting his frustration fall free. It was an undoubted fact that he _was_ gay, but that _didn't_ mean he – that absolute jackass, Heero – was a guy he liked. There was no way.

Yeah. That wasn't a lie.

“I don't care. All I know is that killing that man is-”

“Freeze!”

Duo whirled, eyes already popping wide as they caught sight of Quatre, crawling in from one of the holes in the corner.

The man did the last thing but freeze; he pulled out his gun and turned on Quatre.

Quatre acted quickly, firing first, striking his hand. The man's gun flew off, hitting the wall. A ricochet shot just barely missed Duo's arm. A loud crash and crackling told Duo his computer took the bullet. He cringed. Shit.

“Bastard!” The man jumped forward to attack Quatre before he could fully pull himself up from the ground.

“Don't even think about it!” Duo leaped, as well, and grabbed the man underneath his shoulders. With all his strength, he wrenched the man back.

“Duo!” Quatre cried out. His hand froze on the trigger.

Footsteps came up from behind him. He turned his head, arms trembling in the effort of holding the man back, to see Trowa coming towards him. Trowa grabbed the man from Duo and pushed him down to the ground.

“What the hell–” Trowa pushed the man's face down, pulled his hands back and handcuffed his wrists. “What are you two doing here?!” Duo looked at the man struggling beneath Trowa's grip and blanched. He _couldn't_ be the only one of the group. When they found out what had happened here… “Idiots!” He rounded on Trowa, clenched his fists to his sides. “Let the man go!”

Trowa gave him a sardonic look. “You're the one who grabbed the man,” he pointed out.

“Because he was attacking…!” Duo waved that away. “Let him go _now_.”

“Duo.” Quatre pulled himself up to stand before Duo. “You have to come with us. We need your help.”

“I'm already giving you my help,” Duo hissed. “Rotting in a cell won't do me shit.”

“This place isn't much different than a cell,” Trowa noted.

“That's not the point!” Duo turned to Quatre. “Leave. Both of you. Now.”

Trowa hauled Duo's stalker up into a standing position. “Not going to happen.”

The man laughed. “Too late, Maxwell!” the man chortled, glaring straight into Duo's horrified eyes. He held up a small black box. “I've already sent the orders. It's too late. He'll be dead within the hour.” And he tilted his head back and laughed.

“ _No!”_


	12. Step Up

Heero picked up the phone on its first ring. He was glaring at his shitty computer and Duo's little response; no, indeed. He turned from the computer and glared at nothing. Wufei, he could see, was off a little in the distance, speaking to the cops who'd been in when Duo had entered. Heero could tell they were getting an ass-reaming. It made him smirk.

“Yes, Quatre? What is it?”

“Heero.” Heero went immediately on full-alert; sweet little Quatre was dead-serious. “We've caught the man who's been tailing Duo. We've also-”

“Give me that damn thing!”

Heero stilled. “You're kidding me,” he breathed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wufei turn to him. “You actually caught him? You _caught_ Duo Maxwell?”

He heard a scuffle and wondered what the hell Duo was trying to do on the other end.

“Give me the goddamn phone!”

“Shut up back there,” Heero heard Trowa drawl. “Or I'll cuff you, too.”

“You don't have any more,” Duo taunted loudly. “But you can fetch Winner's if you want. Go ahead. Reach.”

There was an awkward little silence before Quatre said, “oh, fine, I don't see why not.” Then, “there's no malice or ill intent, Trowa,” as if he was trying to placate the taller officer.

Then Heero heard Duo's voice clear as crystal and he knew that the braided man had the phone. “Yuy, you've gotta get outta there.”

“Shinigami.”

His emotions were wild, so wild he almost lost control of them. Duo Maxwell was speaking to him with panic in his voice, and it made his chest tighten to hear it. He felt an odd, misplaced surge of protectiveness, just as he also felt a swelling panic. Duo _was_ in danger. Serious danger, or else he would never speak to him like that.

“Don't be a smart ass, Yuy,” Duo snapped. “You have to get out of there. They're after you. Jesus, they're after you, you dumb shit!”

“They?” Quatre parroted.

“Then the 'he' this man was speaking of…” Trowa trailed off.

Heero felt those emotions shift oddly. He didn't even _know_ what to name them now. “Duo, slow down and explain.”

He though he heard Duo growl. Like an animal. “Dammit, it's pretty obvious, don'cha think? I've had a fucking tag-a-long and he's had you targeted if I didn't cooperate and your dumbass copperhead losers – no offense – fucked it all up and now you need to get out of there because he has friends-”

“Wait a minute.” Heero stood as he spoke, beckoning Wufei over. The Chinese man dropped his one-sided conversation with the other officers and swerved past desks and fellow workers to make his way beside Heero. “You were threatened with _my_ safety? And where is more safe than a police station?”

“Yuy?” Wufei questioned softly.

Heero waved his hand for quiet. “Well?”

“Yeah, that place is so damn safe. Like Fort Knox.”

Heero ground his teeth together, knowing exactly why Duo Maxwell was being so damn sarcastic. The bastard had broken into the place merely a couple of hours ago. He had effectively shown off the weakness of the station himself. “Why were you threatened with my safety?” Heero checked his gun as he spoke. Wufei immediately followed suit.

“To make sure I helped you out. Didn't go solo. It was on J's orders.”

Heero hesitated. “Our chief did this?”

“That's right, your bastard chief did this. His little goons are after you now because these two decided to rescue me.” Duo probably would have sounded more pissed off if his voice wasn't half-hysterical. “Yuy, you have to move. Get Chang with you – no, he's probably already with you. You need to go somewhere else, somewhere that can't get you killed within two minutes.”

“And where exactly do you suppose I go?” Heero asked, checking his gun. Wufei wordlessly did the same.

“How the fuck should I know? I'm not the one with the plethora of safehouses, now am I?” Duo snapped. “But they're gonna target you because of this.” He was obviously pumped on adrenaline and worried sick. It made Heero wonder. What exactly was Duo Maxwell afraid of?

“Calm down. Who are 'they?'” Heero turned his safety off and held his gun at the ready. He saw Wufei do the same and turn to the other cops, putting them on full alert. He didn't know exactly what Wufei was telling them, but it got their guns out and that was what mattered.

“J's little bitches, that's who,” Duo yelled, and Heero would've snapped back at the man if he hadn't heard the fear that made Heero's chest feel funny and tight. “I have no idea who or how many, I only know the one, and he's knocked out here in the back with me and you _have_ to do something Yuy because I am _not_ having your death on my hands.”

“Shinigami stands for the God of Death,” Heero told him, half-smirking. He ushered one of the cops over to the blinds and pantomimed closing them. The man did. It would only be a benefit; it was getting dark out, and though people would be able to see in, they would be blind to the outside.

“No shit?” Duo retorted. “But you Japanese bastards didn't have a convenient word for God of Justice. What does that say about your culture?”

“Neither does English,” Heero pointed out, not rising to the bait. Though it did irk him to have the knowledge that Duo knew his profile shoved in his face again.

“I never killed anyone, and I never led to the death...” Duo sort of petered out there, which brought Heero's internal alarm system to the alert, but then he said, “other than those I was too weak to save. But it was better than calling myself The Hacking Batman and probably scared the shit out of a few baddies, and I didn't see any of _you_ catching them, and this doesn't matter because you're in _danger_!”

“We've got everyone on alert, unlike when you came in, and we're about to call in SWAT.” As soon as Heero said it, Wufei had the phone in his hand. He dialed the numbers and gave Heero an 'and-exactly-what-the-fuck-am-I-saying-when-they-answer?' kind of look. Heero pointed to himself and made the sign for an assassination attempt and got Wufei's eyes wide as hell. “I'm as safe as I can be, Maxwell. Do you want to explain why they were targeting me?”

“ _Are_ , dumbass, _are_ targeting you, and it's because I…” Heero could almost hear the man blush. “Because of what happened that night when the mural was painted; I guess they got the wrong idea or something…”

Heero flushed too, remembering Duo's body against his. But he had caught that slight hesitation and he called Duo on it. “What's it really about?”

“That _is_ what it's really about, dick wipe!” Duo snapped. “Because he thinks you and I are… supposed to be…” He cleared his throat. “It doesn't matter why right now.”

“Duo, give me the phone,” Trowa demanded from the other end of the line.

“No,” Duo argued stubbornly.

“Give it to me. I need to speak with him.”

Duo seemed to hesitate, but then Heero could hear the sound of the phone shifting hands and waited impatiently for Barton to tell him whatever the hell it was the man needed to say.

Because that unfinished line of Duo's just made his breath halt.

“Yuy, we're on our way to the precinct. We'll provide whatever back-up we can.”

“No,” Heero ordered. “No, find somewhere else to go. Wufei's already gotten SWAT on the line. We can't afford to lose Shinigami during this fiasco.”

Trowa sighed. “Fine. I'll call Khushrenada then and inform him of the situation.”

“That would be good. Keep your eyes open; J's little minions may want Shinigami, as well, for breaking whatever promise they'd made him make. And keep your eyes on Shinigami, as well.”

“That may be difficult if we aren't going back to the precinct,” Trowa noted.

“The hell?!” Duo shouted from the back seat.

“Trowa?” Quatre murmured, apparently concerned, as well.

“By the time we arrive, the fight may have already started,” Trowa told them both calmly. “We would only get in the way then, and a hostage situation may form. It's the right call.”

“Bullshit – my computer's there, and it's not like I've never fought before!” Duo snapped heatedly.

“Enough, Duo. We have to trust the others to take care of things,” Quatre said. Heero's hand clenched and unclenched; though Duo hadn't acknowledged the feelings between them, he nevertheless feared for Heero. Even though he'd said they needed to kill the interest… or had he said it merely because he knew Heero was being targeted because of their feelings for one another? Heero could never be sure when the man was hiding or when he was showing his true self.

“Trust _cops_?” Duo replied, sounding absolutely disgusted with the very idea.

“Enough. I'm hanging up,” Heero declared finally. “Barton, you know your orders.”

“Yes, master,” the man drolled, but then the line was dead and Heero couldn't yell at the man for being a smartass.

“Yuy,” Wufei hissed.

“Get ready,” Heero said tersely. “Apparently the man following Duo Maxwell this entire time was using _me_ as leverage against him.”

Wufei had absolutely nothing to say to that.

“Everyone, we are expecting an attack on the precinct, so get ready. SWAT ETA is–” he flicked a glance to Wufei to confirm before saying “–fifteen minutes. We have no way of knowing where or when we will be attacked. Find cover and take turns on watch in different directions. Move the desks to make it easier. And send a message to all cars not to return.” The phone rang. “Ignore it and let it take a message; that's why we have that available now.”

Men immediately followed his orders, pushing the desks into a large rectangle. Three men went for heavier artillery than the pistols they all had at the ready, on orders to check in every thirty seconds. Then positions were chosen.

The phone, which had switched off, only to ring again, went to message for the second time. “Dammit, Yuy!” Heero heard Duo shouting, and felt strange emotions flit through him. “Don't you let anything happen to my computer! You hear me?”

Heero rolled his eyes. Good grief; of course the man had to worry about his warehouse of technology. Definitely Shinigami.

“If anything happens to my stuff, I am going to sue-”

Bullets sounded, loud and sharp and quick, and then the line went dead. Several officers jumped. Heero's head snapped to the answering machine, but it was perfectly fine. No damage. Which meant...

He felt his heart skip a beat, then turn sluggish and heavy. “Duo,” he breathed.

* * *

The cell phone went flying, by the way. Quatre saw it swing out the window just as the car tilted and crashed. His seat belt cut deep into his chest, making him gasp. Duo was cursing in the back, but even he had to stop when the car flipped upside down. Pain flashed and sparked in Quatre's consciousness, his own and Duo's and... Trowa's. And nothing, absolutely nothing, from their captive. It made horror war with the pain, and then he was struggling upside down and trapped in his seat to grab his gun. Just as he did, his airbag popped out and he lost his hold on it. Even he cursed then.

“Trowa–” He turned to look at his superior and gasped. The was blood _everywhere._ “No,” he breathed, feeling his own panic sing through, debilitating his special ability until he could only feel the pain radiating from Trowa in waves. Alive, then. But for how long?

“Oh, I'm fine,” Duo grunted, but he had just unbuckled himself and was sliding over their captive – dead, obviously dead, and apparently from a gunshot wound – to reach the window. “Got something heavy in here?” he demanded.

“Baton,” he muttered, tossing his over the seat. His hands were already running over Trowa's body as quickly and gently as possible. He growled when he couldn't reach past the man's shoulder and struggled against his buckle.

He heard the sound of glass crashing and looked back to see Duo running the baton over the edges of the window to get off the last of the glass that hadn't been broken off. Then he was climbing through.

Was he running?

Quatre didn't care. He had something far more precious to worry about. Seatbelt finally, finally free, he leaned over and checked Trowa's neck for a pulse; the feel of pain just wasn't tangible enough to soothe. Only when he could feel a pulse – a little weak and far too erratic – did he put a chokehold on the fear. “Trowa, I need you to wake up,” he murmured, then again, “please, Trowa, wake up!”

“Hey, blondie, get a move on! The enemy's still out there!”

Quatre turned and stared with his mouth wide. “You,” he spluttered, “what are you doing with my gun?!”

“Get Barton's,” Duo said, not answering the question. “He's alive for now, but if he's shot again, he won't be. If you want him to live, protect him.”

Quatre's heart flipped. “R-Right.” He apologized silently to Trowa as he pulled the man's gun free. “I'll save you,” he whispered, then concentrated once again on his internal... talent. Duo was jumpy, too, but he was forcing himself to be calm. It helped Quatre range out his sense to include the surrounding roadside. Cars passed, but many seemed to want to be somewhere else and were closing off the area with their U-turns. It caused honks and a general swarm of anger and fear and frustration to cloud his judgment. “Where… where…”

“Think like him,” Duo ordered, and Quatre could tell he'd taken up the car as a sort of shield. “What would he be feeling now? Curiosity, maybe? A bit of trepidation, some confidence…”

Quatre didn't bother to think about the man knowing of his ability and just let Duo's words penetrate him. He searched for it amidst the cacophony of emotions. “To the left,” he murmured then, “heading behind us.”

“There's only forest back there. All right. I'm meet up with him. Stay in there, keep yourself under cover. You need to protect Barton,” he said when Quatre opened his eyes and turned to protest. “I'll take care of it. I'm not proficient with these things,” he said, lightly shaking Quatre's gun, “but I _am_ good at hiding. I'll take care of this – _you_ just take care of _him_.”

Quatre pressed his lips together and put his talent back to work. “He's almost behind us. Get moving.”

Duo quirked him a quick grin. “Already gone, blondie.”

The man moved like liquid around cars and hopped over the railing without moving his hands from the gun. And when he entered the forest, he simply disappeared.

Quatre blinked at the forest for a second, surprised. He'd known the man had eluded cops and baddies for years growing up, but he'd never fully taken into account just what that meant in terms of skill. He huffed and turned back to Trowa with a smile.

“We're in good hands, Trowa,” he told the man, trusting Duo completely. And he took the chance to put Trowa's gun down and re-search the man for wounds. When he found one sliced through the man's lower chest, he carefully took off his uniform shirt and pressed it against the wound.

* * *

He heard SWAT over the two-way and heard them warn of a number of cars in the area. A freaking siege, then. Well, Heero had no intention of letting any of J's men win.

The phone rang again, as it had four times in the past fifteen minutes. Now more than ever, Heero appreciated the work of the receptionists. This was ridiculous; and didn't it say something that, even though people were calling the police, no one left a freaking message?

The answering machine clicked on, but there was only a dial tone. Pain in the ass.

But then his cell phone rang and he picked it up with his left hand and answered it.

“Yuy.”

“Yuy, just what the hell is going on?!” Khushrenada barked. “Why the hell do you have SWAT surrounding our own damn precinct?”

Heero stilled, his mind following a thread that made his throat seize up. “Barton didn't contact you?” Then those gunshots had been worse than he'd let himself fear. What the hell was happening over on Barton's end?

“No, he did not,” Khushrenada retorted. “Just what is happening?”

“I've been targeted,” Heero said shortly, “but the enemy had already begun to move before we had. Calling SWAT was all we had time to do-” He stopped abruptly at the sound of a gunshot. His two-way crackled to life.

“Enemy attack! Enemy attack! Report of over fifteen perps, all in black, coming from both the left and right. Prepare to attack!”

Heero cursed. “Time to go. Stay where you are, Chief. We'll handle things here.”

“Yuy!”

But Heero snapped his phone closed and shoved it back into his pocket, then took up position behind his part of the desks.

“One enemy has gone through the back entrance! Prepare to fire!” one SWAT shouted, so loud Heero thought he heard the man from outside.

“Roger that,” both he and Wufei said, and then they tensed.

And the phone rang.

Someone cursed; another pointed his gun to the phone and just shot the damn thing. But all that did was make the thing fall to the ground on the opposite end of the desk, now only heard and not seen. The same man cursed again.

Then the man must have entered the room because fire opened up. Heero didn't turn from his position, watching the front entrance as if doing so could _make_ an enemy appear so he could shoot the bastard. A man shouted, then a hard thump sounded. A small whoop, followed by a growl.

“Troops are falling back,” the same SWAT man – must have been the captain – called through the two-way. “Our snipers shall assist you from here. We're heading to the back; their main forces are back there. Be ready; there are about five men coming up from ahead.”

“Understood.”

The damn thing stopped ringing, and Heero waited for the dial tone. But it never came.

The front door opened then. Heero shot the man before he even passed through the threshold, blocking the way until he fell. Two men came in firing automatics. Heero ducked down to avoid the bullets flying everywhere.

He had no idea how he heard the message being left on the machine.

“Um, hello? Hello, this is… is Maria Worley calling – I'm on Route 40 and there's some sort of accident; it looks like a cop car – someone ran away from it with a gun! And there's gunfire – I think the cops in there are dead! Please do something – there's something going on – I'm leaving, I can't stay anymore, I have two kids. But there were these gunshots and then the police car just flipped over and only one man got out, but I think he might be dead now… oh, God, you have to do something…”

Heero just sat there and felt something just fall apart inside him as everything crashed to hell.


	13. Hit the Floor

The forest reminded him of the streets back in his childhood. The slippery feel of shadows as they merged into the night; the feel of the itch between his shoulder blades, the one everyone wrote of but never explained. Probably because they'd never felt it before. The itch that wasn't an itch; a feeling that came upon you, one of danger, one that forced you to tense your back straight as a bow and peer around with more than just your eyes. Like the itch was expanding your ability to touch into the very air and you could _feel_ when someone came near your perimeter.

But _he'd_ felt it before, and the feeling somehow led him into a crouch before he was consciously aware of the change in stance. He used the trees to hide him, to guide him. When he found a fallen log, he ducked down behind it and just listened.

The forest's employees were changing shifts; he could hear the flutter of wings above him, the soft coo of a bird as it feel into sleep. The rustling of leaves as a soft wind flittered through the forest. Like the sound of paper flying through an alley, a sound wholly different from that of someone stepping on them. These were safe sounds.

But the feel of the gun in his hand and the pain blossoming up and down his back and chest said differently.

He remembered vividly the feel of the car bucking out of Barton's control, then the painful squeeze of the seatbelt as it gripped him tight, taking away his breath. And then the actual crash and the feel of glass hitting his back as the back window broke into a million pieces.

He thought he might still have a few pieces stuck in there, but they weren't bothering him too much and they could be dealt with later.

Too bad, he thought, that the cell phone had busted into a million pieces, too.

Ah, well.

He picked himself up from behind the log and continued on, circling around, making sure not to leave the edge too much. Though he'd be able to find his way back, there was no guarantee that the killer wouldn't be able to slip around him and take out Barton and Winner.

So he ducked around a tree he'd ducked around before and slid to a stop when he heard the sound of paper – leaves – being stepped on.

Found him.

The man was almost silent, almost perfect. But to a street rat his footsteps were loud as thunder. Duo breathed as shallowly as he could and slipped a peek around the tree.

It was dark, dark as pitch, the moon hidden by the leaves above. But Duo could still make out the man's outline, hidden carefully behind his own tree. So the killer knew he was being pursued.

The man sneaked a peak as well, and Duo quietly slid back behind the tree and waited. The man slipped out from behind his tree to move forward – forward and to the right.

Duo slid out from his hidden perch, aimed, and fired.

The man cried out softly. Duo ducked behind his tree again just as the man returned fire. Fuck. His lousy shot had only hit the man, not killed him.

Of course, he'd never actually _killed_ a man before... ah well. First time for everything, right? And this was self-defense. Even _Yuy_ couldn't hate him for this one.

Right?

He skirted around the tree and hid himself back down behind the fallen log. It was a bit easier to hear the man, but he didn't seem to want to hide as much anymore. Duo could hear the man's blood dripping onto the leaves. Behind him, to the right again. The man was moving, and quickly.

Duo got up and swung himself into a tree – like one would slip onto a fire escape, hiding from pursuers and taking the chance to gulp down the food they'd stolen.

Then he waited.

* * *

The holes in the desks were growing to the sizes of baseballs, and thus was their cover literally being blown.

Heero used one of the holes to shoot down another MK carrier and snarled. It was why he'd been given his name Wolf, that snarl, it and his tenacious continuance until every single enemy was taken care of. A couple men cheered as Heero's quarry fell, and someone else took down another.

Wufei had switched to the back to help with the few that managed to make it behind SWAT, and a couple little cheers went up back there, too.

Heero gritted his teeth as he turned around and reloaded. How could he possibly cheer? Policemen were falling because he'd been targeted, and Barton's and Winner's status couldn't be verified.

And because of that, Duo Maxwell was in serious danger. If not already...

He jammed the clip in and twisted back to the small crowd. No, he wouldn't think about that. He would only concentrate on these men _right here_. And he would make sure they paid.

When he emptied this clip, only two more enemies continued standing before him.

They had vests on.

They'd already taken a couple hits, and they'd winced, but these two were a bit different than the fodder who'd fallen before them. Both had taken a desk in the front and used them as shield, getting to them via shields made up of their fallen allies. Heero couldn't get them; the two merely pushed out their weapons, let off an entire clip, and then hid again as they reloaded.

“Cover me,” Heero hissed, and leaped over the little wall they'd made for themselves. And then the Wolf ran.

Others shot at those hiding themselves in front, but they couldn't stop those behind him from seeing his little dash. They shot at him, loud bangs of noise that followed Heero's movements, that alerted those he was targeting to his presence. But he'd already jumped over one of the desks before they could react.

With one shot, the man hiding behind the desk was dead. He twirled as he landed, aiming for the second. They'd managed to get their clip in and aimed for him. Heero's eyes narrowed – prey. His prey was right before him, showing its talons to try to scare him away.

Both shot at the same time.

* * *

Duo's legs were getting cramped.

The man was twittering back and forth, checking practically under every rock to find him. If it weren't for the danger of being heard, he would make himself a bit more comfortable. At this rate his legs were going to freeze up.

But just as he had that thought, he heard a soft change in the wind to his left and grinned ferally. _Finally_.

He slipped in, just a shadow in shadows. There was no visible sign of the man's injuries, and the sound of dripping had stopped a while ago. He'd probably fixed himself up a bit. But the man was looking around the trees, his gun pointed carefully in front of him, cop-style, and he was in range.

Carefully Duo aimed his own borrowed firearm, feeling its weight with a sort of acceptance he hadn't had last time, and pulled the trigger.

And he jerked his hand back as he recognized Lieutenant Carlton.

His shot fired wild, missing its mark. Fuck! This man was actually working for J?

He snarled. He should've seen it – if there'd been a paper trail, he would have. Fuck. _Fuck_.

The man turned, gun pointed, and he, unlike Duo, didn't hesitate in the slightest.

* * *

Heero hissed and touched the small wound on his hip. The bastard had clipped him.”Two shooters down,” he called, and received a couple whoops for his efforts.

It sounded like it was getting to the clean-up stage, with only a couple more gunshots before Wufei and another both called out, “all clear.”

Heero quickly made his way back to their make-shift fortress just in case. He arrived in time to see O'Hara speaking into his two-way and asking SWAT how things looked from the outside.

“All clear,” someone responded, then, “you're gonna have some cleaning to do, boys. Looks like your station's seen better days.”

“Thanks,” O'Hara said dryly. A couple of men called all cars and informed them that it was once again safe to return. Others turned to the injured.

“Three down, two KIA,” a man reported grimly. “Five more aren't in any serious danger, but...”

Heero sighed. “Call 911. I'm getting in touch with Treize. Wufei, try to contact Barton and Winner.”

“Roger that.” Wufei pulled out his phone and proceeded to make the call. Heero did the same.

It was of absolutely no surprise to him when Treize answered in a temper. “Yuy, just what the hell-”

“J,” Heero interrupted, putting two fingers to his temple. Was it just him, or was he getting a headache _now_ , when the gunshots were _silent_? “has had someone following Shinigami.”

“I know that,” Treize snapped, but Heero cut in again before the man could start a rant.

“The man was using my personal health as leverage over Shinigami.”

Treize petered out for a moment before noting – much more calmly – that, “that doesn't make much sense.”

“Apparently Shinigami felt some sort of…” Heero couldn't fucking believe he was blushing. “Some sort of obligation as to my welfare, I can only presume. He agreed to the demands of J's men in order to keep this from happening. But when we apprehended him…”

Treize made a small 'ah' sound. “What is your status? Chang's?”

Heero heard a little bit more concern in there than what a Chief of Department should be feeling for his subordinates. “I'm fine, just a small injury to the left leg, a clip. Chang, status.”

Wufei scowled as he ended his phone call and tried a different one. “I'm fine,” he snapped, and punched in the numbers with a little too much force.

“Wufei,” Heero warned.

“ _Fine_ ,” he said, this time turning his eyes to Heero to pierce him. “I didn't get hit. And you wouldn't have, either, if you hadn't gone all kamikaze on us.”

“What did he say?” Treize demanded, an insistent buzz in his ears. Wufei turned away from him and began talking rapidly. He'd obviously gotten in touch with someone. Heero sighed in relief. Maybe Duo was okay…?

“He said he's uninjured,” Heero told the man. “We have eight who are, and three severely; two died.”

He looked over and saw those two being covered by jackets; he grimaced, easily recognizing them both.

Treize blew out a breath. “Names?”

“Walter Lewis and Stephen Henly,” Heero answered.

“I see. I will speak to their families.”

“So will I.” He rubbed his temple and wished rather oddly for an aspirin. “I was the cause of this, after all.”

“Understood. But for now, get things in order. I'm coming down.”

When Heero didn't protest Treize's oncoming arrival, the man hung up.

He only allowed himself a mental curse as he hung up. He turned his attention to Wufei.

“Where is he now?” Wufei asked, speaking into his phone. The Chinese man was standing tensely, his hand tightly gripping his cell. Whatever relief Heero'd felt was gone again. Had Duo been the one to run away? He'd assumed it was the perp they'd caught. Had Duo made a break for it?

“Winner? Winner, what is it? Winner!”

“Duo's hurt!” Heero heard from over the line, and suddenly he couldn't breathe.

* * *

It was instinct that had him moving, instinct and nothing else.

A pain ripped through his head as he moved, grabbing the branch he sat on with his left hand and flipping backwards, away from Carlton, and curved his back, until his hand and legs stayed on the tree and his torso twisted toward Carlton and the man's face was only a foot or two from Duo's reach and he couldn't possibly miss.

Blood splattered all over him when he pulled the trigger one last time.

Carlton fell to the ground in a bloody, gooey, unrecognizable heap.

Duo let himself fall to the ground, let his injured back smack into the ground, then just rolled over and heaved.

How… sick.

Then he was moving again, ignoring the fucking ocean of blood that was forming around the man's body and took his gun and badge, thinking only of the blood all over his hands after he was finished his little task.

Okay, so maybe killing someone wasn't something he could blow off.

He made his fairly slow progress back to Quatre… Winner… and Barton. It was a bit lighter when he managed to get out of the forest, and he was stopped by the sight before him. An ambulance was there, lights flashing, blinding him. And Quatre was following a stretcher worriedly as it was loaded in. And there were cop cars.

He had half a mind to go back inside the forest.

Quatre seemed to sense his presence – an odd ability, and one Duo hadn't believed until Quatre had made that comment about Duo having no ill intentions – and turned to him. The boy looked freaking torn for a moment, but he spoke quickly to one of the medics on the ambulance and then hopped down, jogging up to him.

“Duo!” the blond called, and he just sighed and stepped out from the final little cover of trees. He felt like he was walking to a stake. With wood already lit underneath.

The feeling only got stronger when one of the cop cars' doors opened and – fucking hell – Heero and Wufei stepped out.

Maybe he could claim some sort of horrible head trauma?

But Quatre was already standing in front of him worriedly, and Duo belatedly remembered all the blood on him and felt nauseous again. And Wufei and Heero were jogging over to him, hopping deftly over the railing just as Quatre and he himself had, and then they were right there in front of him.

“Quatre said you were hurt,” Heero said without preamble.

Duo just shrugged. “I took a hit or two.” He tosses the bloody badge and gun at Heero, who caught the things more on instinct than anything else. “That, by the way, is why you shouldn't trust cops.”

Heero swiped the blood off the ID and hissed. His eyes widened before snapping up to Duo again. Wufei leaned over his shoulder and gasped. Wordlessly Heero handed the badge and ID to Quatre, who made a small, distressed little noise.

“So how'd you guys get here? I thought you were busy fighting for your lives.” He was glad, however, to see the both of them unharmed. Although Yuy definitely had a small wound, it was bandaged and looked to be nothing of great import.

“We had been.”

Wufei stepped forward. “Maxwell, did you...” His eyes slipped to the ID.

“I had no choice,” he said firmly. “It was either him or me, and I didn't exactly want to die just then.” He held out his hands. “You gonna take me in, officers?”

Heero freaking snarled. It was almost funny. “Yes, though I'm certain this charge against you will be dropped under the circumstances, even if it was a cop. But you're still a criminal, Shinigami.”

“Vigilante,” Duo corrected. “And you ain't got dick on that, and you know it. Though I could show you my records, if I wanted to.”

Quatre dropped his hand limply to his side. Off in the distance, the ambulance wailed its way down the street. “Carlton's dead.” The little guy sounded a bit shocked.

“Yeah,” Duo confirmed, pushing from his mind the picture of the man's distorted face and the glops of brain matter that formed little islands in the ocean of blood. “How's Barton?”

“They say he's going to be all right,” Quatre said, but his voice was getting quieter and quieter.

“Hey, is there another ambulance around?” Duo asked, looking around. Quatre – Winner, it was Winner, he was keeping his fucking distance, wasn't he? – wasn't looking too good.

“Sergeant!” a man called. Winner turned and looked vaguely behind him. “The second ambulance is about five minutes away. Who's it picking up?”

Winner looked at Duo, but Duo was already pointing at Quatre. “It's taking him!” he shouted. “I'll be hitching a ride with the happy two-some.”

Wufei just blinked as the man said “okay” and left, but Heero glared at him. “The hell you are! We have work to do–”

“And helping those in need was the oath you swore when you decided to become a copperhead,” Duo interjected, dancing around them to look into Winner's eyes. “Hey, we're going over that way now, okay?” he pointed behind them. “We're gonna sit on the railing and wait for the ambulance. Okay?”

“You're in pain,” Quatre said softly.

Duo sighed, both because of what Quatre said and because, dammit, somehow the little guy had wormed his way in to the point where Duo just had to refer to him by name. “Just a little,” he said, knowing better than to deny it. “I got some glass on me, from the crash. And I got clipped. But that's all, I swear. No other injuries. Now come on.”

He led the kid as a shepherd would a lost sheep and carefully got him settled on the railing. It was a bit precarious; the kid looked about ready to keel over.

They were silent, even Mr. Glares-A-Lot, apparently taking Quatre's state into consideration. Or maybe thinking hard. Or maybe they were in shock, too? Maybe none of them should be driving.

After a couple of minutes, Wufei stood and went off to the side for a few minutes, flipping open his phone. When he came back and whispered something to Heero, the ambulance arrived. Wufei helped Duo get Quatre standing.

“Are you all right?” Wufei murmured. It took a moment for Duo to realize the man was talking to him.

“Yeah; I already said the injuries I got.”

“I mean… about killing him.”

Quatre was safely on a stretcher, so Duo was able to gape at Wufei unhindered. “Uh, you're talking to Shinigami. Who says I don't just go around sticking babies on spikes or something?”

Wufei snorted. “Nice try, Maxwell.” And was that voice teasing? “I highly doubt you've ever killed anyone before.”

The medics closed up the ambulance and turned on its sirens. Duo didn't even flinch at the sound. “No, I haven't. And I haven't sold out legitimate businesses, either. Though I don't see why you'd believe me.”

“Neither do I.” But it didn't sound like the man was condemning him, either.

Heero walked up to them. “Let's go. We have to get Shinigami to the hospital and get back to work.” The man glared at Duo. “Get moving.” And he moved gracefully over to his car.

Duo gaped. Heero Yuy wasn't going to clap him in irons and trudge him off?

Wufei gently clasped his shoulder. “Let's get going.”

The man led him toward the car, and Duo was left with a strange feeling. A feeling of confusion and triumph over his luck and… and what he thought felt suspiciously like hope.

Were he and Wufei… friends? Was Quatre Raberba Winner becoming a friend? Did Heero Yuy not want to see him suffer in eternal torment?

Maybe he'd fallen into shock, too, by the time they got into the car – Duo in the back behind the little metal cage, oh ha ha – and drove off. Maybe that was why something odd kept fluttering in his chest.


	14. Hands Held High

It took two hours for the doctors to remove all the little glass shards.

And by the time they were done, his head had begun to throb and the picture of Mr. Brain Chunks was permanently etched into his skull.

His head had been wrapped before they'd even bothered with his back, and now that they were done both he was carefully placed in the hospital bed and told to remain there for observation. He scowled. Son of a bitch; he'd already been in this hospital twice, was he going to become some sort of repeat customer? He really didn't want these people becoming so familiar with him as to call him by name.

He'd heard that Wufei and Heero were off with Khushrenada to meet with the families of the deceased. Duo had wanted to send his own condolences – after all, it was his fault everything had fallen to this point – but he ended up chickening out. Because really, how many families would want Shinigami apologizing to them? He was kind of like Batman, and Batman hadn't had many friends inside the comic books.

Duo had yet to be slapped into handcuffs, but he _did_ have a watch on him, one consisting of O'Hara and some old partner of his. Duo didn't trust them as far as he could throw them, but Quatre was busy hovering over Trowa Barton.

Agh, the attraction between them was fucking blatant. Just the way they had sat up there in the front of the cop car, leaning close to one another, completely comfortable, Barton's hand on the gear shift switching from reverse while Quatre's hand sat on the rest between the seats... good grief.

So Quatre was glued to his dear partner's side and Duo was stuck with two people who could very well end up being exactly like Carlton.

Duo closed his eyes and shivered. The memory of that face exploding kept replaying over and over again in his head. Worse, it started mixing with that damn mural, with the red that looked so much like that man's blood, with bodies mangled and broken and destroyed...

He didn't make it to the bucket in time, though the nurse was conspicuously silent about it when he buzzed her into the room.

* * *

“Carlton deceived us,” Treize murmured. Wufei scowled in the back – he'd specifically taken the back while Heero drove, Treize taking Wufei's usual shotgun seat – and glared at Treize's remark. The man sounded regretful more than pissed, but Wufei wanted to rip the bastard's head off. Carlton had been a part of their team from the beginning. Thank goodness the man was single; still he had a mother, and Wufei would be going to explain in Duo's place.

Heero and Treize had already expressed their condolences to the wives of their lost brothers, and Wufei had expressed his own, though he'd taken the proverbial back seat then, as well. Heero felt a sense of guilt over the deaths, since they'd basically been protecting him, and Treize always took responsibility for those lost under his command.

Somehow it pissed him off.

“Carlton tried to kill Duo. On the Chief's orders.” Wufei sounded a bit too aggressive, but he wanted a _reaction_ , dammit.

“Yes, I know.” Treize just sighed. His fingers started rapping on the side door. Wufei always hated that damn habit. “Feller – excuse me – J had no right to put so many lives in jeopardy just for his own ends.”

“Jeopardy?” Wufei snorted. He crossed his arms and glared holes into Treize's head. “Carlton is dead. Not to mention my sensei. And Heero's foster father. And two nuns and a priest-”

“Yes,” Treize sighed, “I know that, Wufei. Thank you.”

“All because of Romefeller,” Wufei snarled. “Who Duo has found wants to start a war.”

“Yes.” Thrum, thrum, thrum. “That group must be stopped. The quickest way would be to use Shinigami to–”

“ _Use_ him?” Wufei repeated, aghast. Like _hell_ he would let Treize use his friend! “Absolutely not! Duo is his own person – and he hasn't done anything wrong!”

“He walks a very fine line, Wufei,” Treize told him quietly. “Though there is no evidence to suggest that he has illegally assisted criminals, there is a very poor opinion of him, both in the press and in the precinct. However, if he cooperates with the police, he may be allowed to leave a free man. He may even join us.”

“I doubt it,” Heero said. It was his first contribution to the conversation thus far. “Duo Maxwell doesn't seem too thrilled with cops at the moment, and Carlton's act has only strengthened his opinion of us.”

“That's true,” Wufei piped up. “And he wouldn't join us, anyway. He blames cops for the death of those inside the Maxwell Church, though I'm not sure why.”

Treize sighed. “Well, there's nothing to be done for that. If he doesn't cooperate, we'll have to lock him up.”

“You can't!” Wufei argued.

“Don't let your emotions become tangled up with your job,” Treize told him. The old advice made the Chinese man seethe. “Duo Maxwell is, for now, a vigilante. A criminal, in a sense. There would be no choice.”

“There's no evidence!” Wufei hissed.

“We would take him into custody anyway, on normal procedures, would we not? And then we would gain warrants, search until we dropped, in order to _find_ said evidence.”

“But there is none,” Wufei gritted out. “Duo wouldn't–”

“You are letting your emotions rule your common sense, Chang Wufei!” Treize barked, turning in his seat to pierce Wufei with those cat-like eyes. “Stop talking from your heart and use your head.”

“Heart or head, it makes no difference!” Wufei shouted right back. “There _is_ no evidence, whether you want there to be any or not! Duo's not like that!”

“Wufei,” Heero cut in, but Wufei was having none of it.

“If you arrest him,” he hissed, “I will turn in my badge.”

Treize froze in the front seat, just as Heero's hands slipped for a moment on the wheel. Heero's eyes looked up into the rearview mirror. Wufei met them with steel in his heart.

Maxwell was _innocent_. And he would put more than his badge on the line for that belief.

* * *

Trowa had come out of surgery an hour ago and been placed into ICU. The doctors said he wasn't in absolute critical condition, but the bullet had pierced too close to the lung for them to not be concerned, so he was going to be watched carefully for a couple of days. Just in case his condition, which was stable for now, worsened.

Trowa was so doped up on drugs that the man couldn't really feel any of the pain that had been wracking his body before they'd gone into surgery. Quatre had felt for the man's emotions as he'd waited in the waiting room, pacing and worrying and biting his nails – a habit he'd broken in his teens. The man's emotions had been warbled and indistinct – a product, of course, of the drugs.

At least for now, Trowa wasn't in pain.

Quatre sat next to the man's hospital bed and just kept his hands clasped to one another. A part of him wanted to stand over the man's bed and sweep a hand over that hair, to push it away from his face for once so that it wasn't in his way, but he was afraid to touch, afraid to... to show that sort of emotion.

He wasn't very normal, after all. His ability to feel other people's emotions was disconcerting to others when they found out. Most denied its existence, but despite their deliberate ignorance, they always kept a careful distance from him, afraid of his ability.

Sometimes he wished _he_ could do the same.

Like right now – several people were in pain, afraid of their own mortality. And there were so many visitors, people terrified of the loss awaiting them, some relieved in thinking they would soon lose the burden of another's life, some angry with the world or with God, everyone overburdening him with their emotions without meaning to.

Then there was one person in a room who was fading right then, while Quatre sat looking at his crossed hands and waiting for Trowa to awaken (which he'd been told may not happen for hours because of the amount of drugs in the man's system). So Quatre once again got to experience another's death.

Just as he'd felt the death of the man Duo had run off after.

“Nnn… Quatre?”

He hopped out of the chair on instinct, grasping the railing and looking down into that beautiful emerald eye. “Trowa! You're awake?”

The man nodded once slowly. “What happened?” he asked.

“We were shot at while on our way to the precinct,” Quatre said on a sigh, beaming at Trowa. Awake _and_ lucid. He leaned over Trowa for a moment to buzz in a nurse. “You were injured – one gunshot wound to the right of your chest, near your lung – and we crashed. Our… the man we caught was killed, two bullets to the chest.”

“You? Duo?”

A nurse bustled in then, stopping their conversation. Quatre carefully stepped away and let the woman check his vitals and ask him questions and check for concussion and whatnot. Half-way through the man looked ready to sleep again, but he fought it off, hardly waiting for the nurse to leave before repeating his earlier question.

“We're fine,” Quatre assured him. “I was uninjured, and Duo just got some glass in his back. He went after the shooter while I took care of you.” Quatre hesitated. Should he tell Trowa about Carlton yet, or should he wait until the man had recovered a bit more?

But Trowa answered his internal debate for him when he sighed in relief and closed his eyes. “You aren't hurt, then?” At Quatre's affirmation, he smiled. “Good.” And then the man slipped back into sleep.

Touched, Quatre sat back in the seat and, when the man's breathing steadied out and the heart monitor went back to its rhythmic beats, Quatre gently covered Trowa's hand with his own.

The emotions he felt then were all his, and though they tumbled all over each other, he could read them perfectly well. It made him sigh again, but this time in bliss. He'd waited so very, very long to feel these emotions. It was wondrous to feel them now, and for this man. This wonderful man.

* * *

Duo was somehow surprised to wake up from his little self-induced nap to find Heero Yuy sitting next to his bed.

The man was resting with his hands dangling loosely between his knees, and he was deep in thought. It was odd for Duo to feel a rush of lust when seeing a man in a cop uniform.

Heero saw Duo was conscious, and his eyes latched solidly on his. They weren't glaring. More like... assessing.

“What?” Duo asked, annoyed.

“Wufei,” the man told him, “is handing in his badge as we speak.” He stood.

Duo shot up in the bed on a gasp. Almost immediately he slumped back down again and grabbed his head woozily. “What the hell for?”

“For this.” Heero slipped his hand to his belt. Duo couldn't believe his mind slipped to the gutter just like that – he felt even stupider when Heero pulled out his handcuffs.

“Oh, right. We're to that point, right? But the doctors are still holding me here.” Duo shrugged and quirked a grin. “Eh, either a prisoner in this place or in another. I can't win.”

“Then you shouldn't have acted as you had,” Heero snapped. But he snapped his hands onto the railing, making a god-awful clanging sound as the handcuffs banged against the metal. “But,” he said carefully, “it doesn't have to be this way.”

Duo sent him a blank look.

On a deep breath, Heero whooshed out, “join us.”

Duo pulled back from him instinctively. “What?”

“Join us. Help us defeat Romefeller. Our Chief of Department is willing to drop the charges against you if you–”

Duo barked out a laugh, cutting the man off. A look of frustration covered that face. “This is rich,” Duo snarled out. “Absolutely fucking rich. Trust you _cops_ to decide on something like this.”

Heero bristled. “It's a good deal, Duo.”

Duo felt something weird spark inside him – Heero Yuy had just referred to him by his first name. But that wasn't important now. “Yeah, that's right – let's give a potential criminal a way out. Let's just let him out for giving us a few names. Right?” He chuckled darkly. “You fucking cops are all the same. The answer's no. No way in _hell_.”

“Duo,” Heero said again, and his tone was both furious and concerned. Was the second part faked? “You know what will happen if you go to jail, even for a short time. Romefeller's probably the ones behind the murders, which means that their ready for whatever next step of their plan-”

“Slow,” Duo hissed. “You people are fucking _slow_.”

Okay, now he was just furious. “We don't have your skills on the computer. Your hacking ability is better than the best of us – something I'm positive you already know. And you know what will happen if you don't cooperate. Wufei isn't the type to change his mind once he's made a decision. He really will quit, and being a cop is practically in his blood. Manipulated or not,” he added when he saw Duo's eyes ignite.

Duo knew it was true, and he felt guilty as hell for the sacrifice Wufei was making. But he wouldn't give up his own beliefs. “No way. I'm not joining _you_.”

Heero's teeth clacked together. “And,” the man hissed, “though I despise speaking of it, you and I both know full well that J's men have not been cowed.”

Duo sat back against the pillows behind his head on a whoosh. It was true, of course; whatever fucking army had attacked the station, they weren't the end of it all. Which meant Heero was still in danger. And himself, of course – they probably wouldn't want him alive for much longer, either. “You're being targeted, anyway,” Duo felt the need to tell him. “Romefeller's after us now.”

“Just another reason to join together!” Heero said urgently. Those hands of his gripped the railing so tight it almost seemed to bend. “We aren't asking you to become a cop – just to join with us, and only on this one case!”

“No! I'm not joining you fucking _cops_! Not for anything!” He leaned up again, pushing himself up with his arms so that he could get into Heero's face.

“Why?!” Heero demanded, putting his own face nose-to-nose with Duo's. If Duo wasn't so pissed, he'd be far too aware of how close those lips were. “Why the fuck do you hate cops so much?”

“Oh, you mean other than the fact that I just had to kill one because he was shooting at me?” Heero flinched a bit at that one; guess Duo had made the proverbial punch to the gut there. “And other than the fact that your fucking chief tried to run my ass over?” Another flinch. “Then how about the fact that your chief sent out _cops_ to kill Father Maxwell and Sister Helen?! They didn't even bother to change out of their fucking _uniforms_ before they beat the shit out of Father! His blood was on those fucking clothes!”

Heero leaned back. His hands slipped from the railing. “What?” he whispered, apparently dazed.

“That's right!” Duo snapped, and he just didn't care enough to shut the fuck up at that point. “The ones that you just finished defeating at the precinct? Yeah, I'll bet money they were ex-cops or cops from another area. And you know what else? That precious foster father of yours? Odin Lowe? Yeah! He was killed by cops, too!”

Heero hissed, backing away from him. Those eyes were turned inward.

“You joined the ranks of his murderers!” He leaned forward, gripping the railing with one hand in order to keep his balance as he finished his rant. “You've become one of them!”

Then he stopped, horrified with himself, as pain etched itself into Heero's face. It was as if the man was stuck in a nightmare. Duo hissed and struggled to stand. The world tilted and he almost smacked his head into the railing. Then he scooted himself onto his knees in a sitting-up style. Heero hadn't moved.

“Fucking hell,” Duo muttered, pissed with himself. He hadn't thought he was going to say anything about it, let alone like _that_. If it'd been him, he certainly wouldn't have appreciated the delivery.

When he'd managed to sit on the edge of the bed – the world was spinning far too quickly to attempt standing – he reached out and touched Heero's forearm. “Hey,” he called softly. No response. He frowned. Should he call the nurse? He shook Heero slightly. “Hey, snap out of it. I'm a fucking criminal here. Should you show such a vulnerable side to me?”

“Fuck you.”

Heero's lips hardly moved, and the words somehow didn't suit the controlled man, so it took a second to realize that the voice was undoubtedly Heero's. “Uh, isn't that my line?”

Heero hissed, and finally, finally those eyes returned to Duo.

“Sorry,” Duo said quickly. “I hadn't meant to say that – I just got so pissed – ah, but that's not the point. I hadn't meant to say that, and I definitely hadn't meant to blurt it out, so I'm really sorry. The delivery wasn't exactly fantastic, and…” he trailed off at the look on Heero's face. “Uh, you okay?”

“Why didn't you fucking tell us this to begin with?” That voice was icily calm, just like his Prussian eyes.

Duo felt like he'd just fallen headfirst into a hornet's nest. “Ahh…”

“Well? Obviously you knew this from the beginning. Why did you neglect to inform us of this?”

“It was none of your business,” Duo hissed, backing up a bit where he sat on the railing. The man didn't seem to have realized his position yet, but Duo was definitely aware of the man's proximity, especially now, when he couldn't hardly move without fearing a face-plant.

“None of my business? You knew about Lowe by then, dammit! How could you say it had nothing to do with me?!”

Well, he was stumped on that one. “It's not exactly something I talk about!” he retorted, hunching defensively.

“Well it should be!” Heero snapped. “When it's something that important–”

“It's not like you and I were particularly close at that time! I was a suspect and _you_ were a cop!”

“And that hasn't changed!” Heero retorted, getting into his face again.

“Well that's the problem, then, isn't it?!” Duo responded to Heero's presence by jutting his chin out, a clear show of defiance. “You're always gonna be a fucking cop, and I'm always going to hate cops!”

“You can't hate all of us for the sins of a few!” Heero fumed.

“ _Watch_ me!”

“God _damn_ it!” Heero shouted suddenly, shoving away from Duo and raking a hand through his hair. “Why? Why with _you_ of _all_ people…!” The man made a frustrated noise. Then he dipped down and pulled Duo's head forward and up, until Heero's lips suddenly crushed down on his.


	15. In Between

He probably looked stupid, eyes like a deer's as he was pushed down onto the hospital bed.

Heero's lips were fierce, as if they were fighting a battle against his own. Harsh, almost cruel, and demanding. It sparked something in him, something stronger than the wave of vertigo that had hit as soon as he'd been pushed. Suddenly his hands were reaching around Heero and pulling him closer, and his mouth opened to give Heero access.

The man didn't hesitate but instead thrust right in, devouring. Duo jumped at the feel of it, at the warmth of Heero's tongue dominating his mouth. “Nnn...” He grasped Heero's hair – as wild as it was, it was soft as silk – and pulled Heero's face closer.

Heero shifted, bringing his leg up to get better leverage. And it went right in-between Duo's thighs.

Duo groaned deeply.

Heero's hands began to move down, down his chest and to his stomach, but a clanging noise stopped him. Heero growled against Duo's lips and jerked up.

Duo just laid there sideways on his hospital bed, eyes wide and dazed. Slowly his brain shifted into gear again. And he blushed and cursed.

Heero practically jumped out of the bed. He raked a hand through his hair again, then glared at his right hand. And the handcuffs still dangling from his fingers.

It took a moment for Duo to remember how to sit up, and another moment to make the ceiling stop twirling long enough for him to complete the task. He grabbed his head, wondering if he was only dizzy because of his injury or if it was also a symptom of a brain meltdown.

Heero turned to glare at the floor by the side of his foot. “Last chance,” he said bitterly. Referring, of course, to his decision to join the police.

It seemed the man already knew his answer.

“No,” he whispered. “Not even now.” He'd almost said, _not even for you_ , but thankfully he managed to bite that little bit back.

Heero sighed. His hands clenched into fists. “Then I have no choice.” He stared purposefully into Duo's eyes as he moved forward. Duo could have fought it – resisting arrest, they called it, didn't they? – but he spared both himself and Heero the pain of that and just let the man cuff him. He was dead silent as the manacles clicked into place and Heero intoned the Miranda Rights with a tight, subdued voice.

* * *

“You can't be serious,” Treize murmured quietly, watching Wufei's hands as he unclipped his gun and tossed it onto the desk. His badge and ID followed, clacking like thunderbolts. “You would do this simply for him.”

“It's not just for him,” Wufei said tonelessly, trying valiantly to keep a grip on his anger. “It's also for honor, and for what I believe to be right. Even if you arrest him, you cannot place guilt where there is none. All you can place is blame.” Wufei turned to leave the room.

“Wait.”

It was habit that made him stop. Habit, because he understood very well the carefully controlled tone in his superior's voice.

“Does this have anything to do with Meiran?”

Wufei tensed. “No,” he hissed.

“Then what?” Treize demanded. The squeak of his chair let Wufei know that the man had stood. “What could possibly make you react so rashly?”

Rashly? He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. It would not do, he told himself, to try to deck the man. Even if he _had_ officially quit the job. “I gave you fair warning that I would not tolerate this decision.” Good, his voice was steady. “Still, despite that, you went against my opinion and–”

“Because you're vision in clouded,” Treize cut in smoothly. “You cannot give me good advice on this.”

“No one can,” Wufei snapped. “Heero cares for the man, too, and the only reason you're so blind is because you've yet to meet him!” He stomped to the door.

“Don't you run away from this, Chang Wufei,” Treize said quietly, and Wufei's tenuous control of his temper was officially cut.

“I am not 'running away' from anything!” Wufei whirled back to Treize. He was surprised to see that the man had circled his desk so that there was nothing between them but floor. Wufei's stepped forward, his entire body pulsing with anger. “You simply don't want to understand! He is not a threat! And he sure as hell should not be manipulated! I refuse to stand by and let my friend–”

“And what can you do now?” Treize asked quietly. “You have just become a civilian. What can you hope to achieve as you are now?”

“Shut up!” Wufei slashed the air with his hand. “I'm tired of your high-handed attitude – I'm–”

“You're acting like a spoiled brat,” Treize snapped. “Start thinking like an adult. Not everything goes the way you want it to. That's life. I thought I told you that three years ago?”

Wufei bristled again, this time both at the tone and at the memory. “Yes, you told me plenty. Too bad all you ever do is _talk_ ,” he sneered.

Treize's steps ate up the space between them in a heartbeat, but the man's grace pervaded his rushing movements. “You're still insolent,” he said calmly, “and still so much a child.”

“You bastard!” He seethed, glaring up into Treize's face. It was still a frustration to him, always having to look up into Treize's eyes. Not being able to stare at him at eye level. “I don't give a damn what you think. I've made my own decision!”

“And once again, it's the wrong one.” Treize's breath was hot on his face.

“Get away from me!” Wufei pushed back, trying to get away, but the wall was too close and he bumped into it. He tensed. “I'll make my own decisions. They're the right ones for _me_!”

“Are they? And are you happy, now that you are no longer a lieutenant?” Treize just followed after him. “Were you happy when you killed Meiran's murderer? And were you happy when you broke up with me?” Treize lifted Wufei's chin and smiled. “Well?”

That fucking scent. It always pissed Wufei off, that a man as strong and unyielding as Treize always had the faint scent of roses on his skin. “Get off!” he growled, swatting Treize's hand away.

“Not much of an answer,” Treize noted. “Or maybe that in itself is the answer?”

“Stop with the riddles!” Wufei squirmed, but Treize wouldn't let him get away. He considered kicking the man in the nuts, but usually Wufei's attacks would only lead to a spar he couldn't win. And then something else. Something entirely different. Something he'd walked away from a long time ago. “I want you to let Duo go. Why can't you do even that? You and I both know he's done nothing wrong!”

“There's no proof of that,” Treize stated simply.

“Well there's no proof he's done anything illegal! Innocent until proven guilty, remember?!”

“Oh? So now you want to talk legal jargon with me, little dragon?” Treize's superior smile was even more difficult to accept up close.

The old pet name instantly threw Wufei into a rage. “Damn you!” He swerved down and ducked under one of Treize's arms. He was throwing a kick before he could tell himself to stop, and then he was stopped, his leg caught in Treize's grip; he pulled himself free and stumbled back. That grin had morphed into a smirk.

“Do you want to spar _here_ , in my office?”

Wufei caught the innuendo – the man was asking if Wufei wanted to do the entire bit – the fight, then the… after-fight. Wufei snarled.

“Go to hell.”

He didn't give Treize the chance to respond; he simply yanked open the office door and stomped out. Treize's eyes bored a hole into the back of his head. It was an effort not to continue the fight, but he had someone he had to see.

* * *

Quatre sighed. Trowa had officially been drugged up to the point where he most definitely wouldn't be waking up. And technically Quatre wasn't supposed to be there to begin with; it was deep into night, almost morning by now. Visiting hours wouldn't start for quite a while yet. He'd been using his status as a cop to bend the rules.

He really shouldn't stay here any longer.

He sighed and stood, only to stare at that sleeping face some more. How had it happened? Trowa Barton wasn't quite what he'd expected when he'd allowed himself to consider a... life partner, should he say? He'd always thought someone kind and simple like himself, perhaps someone with their own special gift. Because, he thought wryly, he'd believed no one normal would be able to stand being around him.

But if anything, Trowa Barton seemed almost comfortable with him, extra baggage and all. He not only believed that Quatre could feel others' emotions, but he seemed to accept it without much of a problem. Maybe Trowa didn't think he was a freak?

He bit his lip. Should he ask the man when he woke up? But they had plenty of other things to worry about, and he was recovering...

Shoes smacked against the linoleum, and Quatre was made aware of a familiar person's anger and frustration.

He turned and peeked out of the room. “Wufei?” he called softly.

The man whirled to him, tight ponytail smacking his neck. “Winner! You're still here! Great.” And the Chinese man stormed over to the blond. “Where is Maxwell?”

“Duo?” Wufei's emotions were heavy with concern and fury. And, Quatre noticed, he was out of uniform. Heero had told him that Wufei had decided to quit, but he hadn't quite believed it. Now that he was seeing the man without his uniform on for the first time, however, he was inclined to believe Heero's words. “Heero already took him in. I'm sorry, Wufei.”

Those almond eyes snapped, but more than that was the stinging pain of betrayal. Quatre could feel it, almost as strong as his worry for Duo. “This shouldn't be happening,” Wufei murmured. His fists clenched.

“I know. I agree. I'll look after him as best I can, Wufei. I promise.”

Wufei nodded. “You're a good man, Winner.” He looked about ready to punch the wall, but he didn't. Instead he turned away. “I've given up the ability to do that for him,” he murmured. “I'm too weak to do anything.”

“Wufei…” Quatre stepped all the way into the hallway and gently touched Wufei's shoulder. “I think Duo will understand why you did what you did, and will be humbled by it. But I think, right now, he needs your help, help that you can only give him if you wear your badge. Is there a way you can just put it on, just for now? Just until he's safely free.”

Wufei shook his head. “This entire thing is happening because everyone believes we five need to work together. Even if Treize tries to manipulate Maxwell into helping, the outcome will be the same. Maxwell will refuse, and so will I. Trying to manipulate us…” His fists clenched. “As long as those in power attempt to manipulate us, Maxwell and I will continue to fight them, as well.”

Quatre frowned. The pride of the independent was strong, he supposed. He was always willing to work with others, even excited to. But for those like Duo and Wufei and even Heero, sometimes, working with others meant moving toward the same goal. As long as the path was one they wanted to take, they didn't care much if others walked it with them. But as soon as the paths split…

“I'll watch after him.”

“…Thank you.”

It was somehow painful to watch that strong back walk ramrod straight to the elevators.

* * *

Duo took a look around as Heero took off the handcuffs. A single cell, solitary holding because of the threat to his life. A single cot, a hard-looking one, and a shelf on the wall in case he wanted to stick his shit up there. Like he had anything.

“Are you sure?” Heero asked. Duo looked back at him and saw the man studiously looking at the manacles.

“I'm sure.”

Heero recognized the steel in Duo's voice and resigned himself. “Then so be it. Duo Maxwell, or rather, Shinigami, we've arrested you for theft, fraud, and vigilantism. You will be kept here until further notice. If the court grants you bail–”

“Yuy, I know the drill. I read the books.” Duo moved over to the cot and jumped on it, lying down and putting his hands behind his head. When he turned to Heero, he was still standing stone-faced in front of the cell door. “You gonna leave that door open all day, Yuy? I might just make a break for it, you know.”

“And go where?” Heero asked sardonically.

Duo shrugged. “I could disappear. The only reason you guys found me was because I was staying nearby, and then only because that Quatre guy's pretty special.”

Heero frowned. “And why would you disappear? There are men after you, and you want to take down Romefeller, too. Whether you admit it or not.”

Duo shrugged, not bothering to answer that one. The walls were boring. He'd be tired of looking at them in no time.

“Duo, just join us!” Heero said suddenly. “Just let this whole thing drop. We both want the same thing!”

“I'm not willing to be chained down,” Duo gritted out. “And I don't respond to threats well. Especially from _cops_.”

Heero's lips thinned. Duo could plainly see anger in that cool gaze, but it was tempered by iron control. “You had no trouble when you were helping us before.”

“Exactly,” Duo hissed, glaring up at him from the bed, refusing to stand again despite the odd feel of having Heero even higher above him than usual. “Helping, asshole. On my own time and on my own terms. Not _joining_ you, and certainly not because you threatened me with _jail_ time.”

“You responded when my life was on the line.”

Duo gritted his teeth and turned away, clenching his eyes shut. He didn't want to be reminded of that. “Well that was something else entirely, now wasn't it?”

“I don't see how. Romefeller could kill countless in this war they're trying to create.”

Duo wanted to say that he wasn't the type to care, but he was. “Well then stop them.”

“Duo, dammit, it doesn't have to end like this! Just swallow that pride of yours and join us! We're not asking for anything more than what you've already been doing – just hack through files and give us information, and preferably _before_ Romefeller starts something! We could end this anticlimactically, without any more loss, if you'd just _work_ with us!”

“And then what?” Duo snarled, pushing himself up onto one elbow. “And then I just walk away, no damage done, even though I'd become something I despise? I _won't_ sacrifice myself for anyone, but especially not for the likes of _cops_.”

Heero Yuy just charged right up to him and bent down and glared at him, faces inches apart. “Cop or not, we're doing the right thing.”

“Are you?” Duo hissed. “Is being manipulated like that acceptable? Do _you_ think it's okay, Lieutenant?”

Heero bared his teeth like fangs. “I am a cop because I believe I can–”

“You can bring peace, save lives, yeah, I know. I read your profile, remember?” Duo grinned a bit crazily at the furious look on that face. “So what? Somehow these methods don't seem all that peaceful. But neither were J's. Maybe your opinions have changed after working under him?”

Heero slammed a hand on Duo's cot. “Of course not! Don't be ridiculous.”

“Wufei's in it for the justice, right? Seems he's taken umbrage with Khushrenada's methods and finally snapped.”

“Aren't you ashamed?!” Heero yelled, and he leaned forward and snagged Duo's arm. “He's giving up everything for you! The least you could do is show some remorse!”

“Why?” Duo asked calmly. “He's a grown man and he made his own decisions.” Not that he wasn't feeling guilty for it anyway, but that was beside the point. “He made the decision that was best for him, just like what I'm doing now.”

Somehow Duo's words seemed to cut Heero's thread, because he just kind of… backed off. Without another word, the man let go and backed away. He seemed a bit… unbalanced. “You have… that kind of faith in him?”

Duo jumped a little, surprised by the question. “I guess. Don't you? You _are_ his partner.”

Heero made a rude noise. “The two of you really do have a strange bond.”

“So do you,” Duo noted, a little miffed to hear Yuy talk about his friendship like that. “So what?”

Yuy seemed unable to reply again; he just stood there for a while, clenching one of the jail cell bars, his back carefully turned so Duo couldn't see his face. Slowly that fist unclenched and fell to his side, and then silently the cop walked out, shutting the cell door behind him.

Duo considered about fifteen sarcastic remarks before just letting the man stride his confident gait out.

Hell. He was toast.

He touched a finger to his lips and sighed. Even if he acted like a schoolgirl, he couldn't help the fact that Heero's kiss had shifted something in him that probably shouldn't have moved.


	16. Given Up

Heero glared at the report. There was no nice way of saying that Carlton had turned on his own and shot a cop and attempted to kill a... Heero sighed. Should he call Duo a civilian? Technically he was…

His head thumped against the desk. Duo Maxwell. The man just kept entering the forefront of his mind, almost like some sort of virus. A very warm, very virile virus.

Dammit, and he was reading the same sentence for the ninth time.

Wufei's desk was empty. Duo was in jail. Barton was in the hospital, and Winner, as hard as he tried, was turning into a zombie from worry.

And him? Well, he wasn't doing so hot, either.

“Manipulated, huh.” He rubbed his eyes. Duo Maxwell was right, damn him to hell. They was being used, and he most certainly didn't like it.

* * *

Treize rubbed his forehead and shuffled through the stack of papers on his desk. He's tried to keep Wufei on the force, but in the end the man had slipped through his fingers once again. Just like three years ago, when Wufei had decided to end their relationship. Once the man made a choice, he never backed down on it.

Right now, he couldn't say for certain if it was a charm or a frustration.

“Definitely a frustration,” he concluded, and stood. He couldn't sit still. He needed to pace. He needed a bath.

Things were falling apart. J had turned every cop under his command into a suspect, to the point where he felt unsafe even in his own office. Even now, his gun was holstered to his hip. More, Duo Maxwell was refusing to assist them in a case which could very well be the toughest case in his entire career. And they needed a hacker. A very, very good hacker. They didn't have any even close to placing par with Maxwell. But due to a simple bias, the man was unwilling to fight for justice.

And then there was Wufei, who kept slipping further away from him no matter how tightly he attempted to keep a hold of him. Heero Yuy would most likely be following his partner shortly, as well, unless Treize did something about it.

But what?

In the end, he didn't know that he had any other choice but to do what had to be done.

“Like Fellur. How… unbecoming.” He sat back down, decided, and dialed a familiar number. “Hello. I need you to do something for me…”

* * *

“But to quit? What were you thinking?”

Quatre stopped in the middle of the hospital hallway, surprised to hear Trowa's voice from the end of the hall. The emotions in the room were familiar to him. He pressed up against the wall as if they could see him and proceeded to eavesdrop.

“I can't be used, Barton. Maxwell, I'm certain, understands that.”

Wufei sounded weary, as if he'd been having this particular conversation for quite a while. And was getting sick and tired of it.

But Wufei, Romefeller is on the move. We can't afford to lose you!”

“Then heal, and do it quickly. Winner is probably worried sick about you, you know.”

“I know,” Trowa sighed, but then his emotions tightened. “But we're talking about you, dammit.”

Wufei tsked. “Saw that, did you?” At Trowa's silence, Wufei gave in. “Fine. You and I both know damn well that there's nothing to hold Maxwell on. We have no evidence of any foul play. Vigilante justice is only illegal if someone's going around beating up perps. This man is simply finding evidence and presenting it to those being wronged. In other words, this isn't justice.”

Trowa took a deep breath. Quatre could feel his emotions and smiled a bit wanly. Trowa agreed. “But now you can't do anything.”

“I've thought about that, and I've decided to become a P.I.”

Trowa huffed a sardonic laugh. “You hate P.I.'s.”

“Nevertheless, I've been given a case. By one Duo Maxwell. He asked me to find those who had killed those in the orphanage he stayed in when he was a child. When I informed him that they'd been killed as well, he asked that I find out why and by who. I'm on the case as we speak.”

Trowa was silent, considering this. “No one will believe it.”

“Maxwell will have my back.”

Quatre grinned. For a friendship created through simple car problems, these two shared a very close bond. And Quatre had no doubt that Duo _would_ have Wufei's back.

“So you're still on the case,” Trowa summarized.

“Yes. But I will be working on my own, and for myself.”

Quatre felt acceptance from Trowa and relaxed against the wall. He didn't know why he'd feared Trowa wouldn't accept this. Trowa accepted _his_ little… quirks. Why not Wufei's, as well? He wondered if anything disturbed Trowa.

“I'll stay inside, give you information.”

Wufei laughed. “An inside source. I used to hate that.”

“I know.” Trowa must have been grinning; it was plain as day in his voice. “Will you refuse it?”

“No.” The sound of hands clasping clapped down the hall. Quatre grinned and took the chance to step forward. “Thank you, my friend.”

“Just don't tell anyone and we'll be fine. Hearsay and hard fact are two different things.”

Quatre knocked on the door, and both went immediately quiet. “Trowa? I thought I heard your voice.”

“Quatre.” Trowa's trepidation immediately swept away. “I thought you'd be a bit longer.”

Quatre could have guessed that from the conversation, but he had no intention of admitting he'd overheard it all. It wasn't like he would be telling anyone. He agreed with it all, too. “I thought so, too, but I caught a break. Heero's doing paperwork, filing the information about Carlton.” His grin dimmed a bit at the memory of the man's death.

“Ah. I will leave you to your police work.” Wufei gave a quick, old-fashioned bow and left the room. Quatre watched him go sadly.

“He'll be all right,” Trowa said quietly. His eyes were carefully assessing Quatre.

“It just doesn't feel right. Not having him around, I mean.”

“I know. But it's his choice.”

“And the right one.” Quatre bit his lip. “I'm worried, though. Everything's falling apart, even though we need to stay together, now more than ever.”

Trowa was serious, too, with emotions that ranged from upset to understanding. Yet each was so muted, as if under rigid control. It was so easy to be with him. Quatre sighed with pleasure and sat down, taking a small chance to simply soak up Trowa's presence. “We all fight for our own reasons, Quatre. We all need to stand for those reasons.”

“I know.” He sighed again. “I know. I don't argue that. But we all need to work together, don't you see? We shouldn't be fighting. And Duo…”

Trowa reached up, careful of his injury, and covered the hand Quatre had unconsciously laid on the bar around the bed. “Heero will handle it. He's got his own problems right now, and he's working them out. But I believe that Heero will take care of Duo.”

It was like Trowa could feel it, too. The energy that existed between the two. “Yes.” He smiled and carefully twined his hand around Trowa's. “I agree.”

* * *

There was absolutely nothing to do, and he was bored out of his fucking skull.

Duo counted the cracks in the right wall for the third time that day, so incredibly bored he thought some of his brain cells might have been atrophying right that very moment. He was almost tempted to look out and see who was making the footsteps down the hall, but he figured that would be too much like the loser prisoners on all those movies.

“Duo Maxwell.”

He jumped, shocked that this time they were actually going to talk to him. He turned from his study of the wall and quirked an eyebrow. “Khushrenada? I guess it's supposed to be an honor?”

“Perhaps.” The man was tall. Even though Duo had read the man's height in his profile, it was certainly another thing entirely to see it in person. “I don't care one way or another.”

“Oh, good. So I can be my usual self?”

“Minus any illegal activity, certainly. It's not as if you could harm me.”

“Oh?” Duo didn't bother to threaten the man. He didn't want to give him any unnecessary fuel. “That's nice.”

“Isn't it?” The man stepped forward, lowered his voice. Though Duo pretended to be uninterested, his attention peaked. “I'm afraid we're running out of time, Duo Maxwell. We need you to assist us.”

“No.” He looked back to the wall. “No thanks. No dice, no deal, no way. Are there any other ways to express that while still using the word 'no'?”

“I'm not asking. Romefeller is a criminal organization. You are a criminal. And sometimes, cops must bend the rules in order to stop the criminals. It doesn't matter if we harm criminals to do so.”

Duo stiffened, but otherwise didn't react. “Oh? That's illegal, you know.”

“I know. But no one will find out. You will be in solitary confinement, and only I will be allowed to visit you. But remember, Duo Maxwell – you will not be the only one in danger.”

Duo's breath absolutely stilled then, immediately understanding the threat. “You would harm your own man?”

“If I must.”

Duo thought about the man's profile, about how Wufei felt about him, and felt his heartbeat thud painfully against his ribs. “You can't be serious.”

“I can be. I am.”

Duo stared hard at the wall. If he showed just how pissed and scared he was, he was certain it would give Khushrenada an even greater edge. “And what if I called your bluff?”

“You could. It's not as if you could see the results of what would occur. Of course, I would be able to get pictures.”

True. He would trapped in solitary confinement. Khushrenada could do whatever he wanted. Duo wouldn't be able to speak out against him. It made his heartbeat jump. Just the idea of such helplessness made him start shaking.

He bit his lip, considered. In the end, he just couldn't take the chance. “And what do you want?”

“Very good. I knew you were smart, Duo Maxwell.”

“Shut the hell up and just tell me what you want.” Duo turned around, glared hotly at Khushrenada. “Let me guess – hack into Romefeller's system, find evidence?”

“In a word, yes.”

Duo wanted to pull away, to shout, 'hell, no!' and be done with it. He didn't really care if the bastard beat the hell out of him; he'd been beaten before. But for some reason, the thought of Yuy being hurt somehow brought fear up from some unknown source in his gut and chest and suddenly the only thing that mattered was the safety of Heero Yuy. Maybe it was the kiss. Or maybe he was just stupid.

“And for that, you're willing to go to jail?”

“I'm not a pencil-pusher, Mr. Maxwell. All I care about right now is stopping a war.”

Duo gritted his teeth. Was this really it? Was this how it was going to be played? Was he going to have to help this damn cop just because he couldn't stand the idea of a _different_ cop getting hurt?

His hands clenched; his arms trembled. He was so pissed he wasn't sure he could see straight. “Where's my computer?”

* * *

Heero stared in absolute shock as Duo Maxwell came up from out of nowhere, escorted by two cops and taken to his computer. He stood from his desk and followed like a tourist.

“What have you done to her?!” Duo demanded when he came in sight of his precious computer. “She's in even worse shape than when I came to check on her!”

“Check on her?” one of the cops repeated with a scoff. Duo ignored him.

He traveled around the computer, ducking underneath the desk and gently picking up the external hard drive. It was like the computer was an old lover of his. He treated it like it was priceless. “Oh, poor baby,” he cooed, and Heero had seen more than enough.

“What are you doing?” Heero demanded. He stepped past the two cops guarding over Duo without so much as looking at them. “Didn't you want a vacation in a jail cell?”

Duo didn't look up, too distracted, apparently, by the microscopic damage placed upon his 'baby.' “You have no idea how boring it is to keep counting the same cracks over and over again.”

“You would betray Wufei for some entertainment?!” Heero snapped. He stilled when Duo flinched violently.

“Shut up,” Duo muttered, and placed his hard drive back down. He turned to his two guards. “You guys want me to catch proof of arms dealing, right?”

The two cops shrugged rather helplessly. “Just… do what you always do?”

Duo snorted. “Right, right.” He pulled out the chair and sat down. “Let me just check to see what all you idiots did to my computer.” He clicked the thing on and swept his hands over the keys. Heero watched a new transformation come over the man; he was like a completely different person when in front of the computer. More serious. More… fluid.

He stepped forward and grabbed Duo's shoulder, forcing him around.

“Ow! Hey, asshole, that's police brutali–”

“Shut up and tell me what happened,” Heero hissed.

Duo hesitated for only a very short moment before smirking. “Pick. Should I shut up, or should I talk?”

The bastard was playing word games. Heero made certain he didn't cut off the bastard's blood circulation before he bothered to respond. “You said you would never go against your beliefs, not for Wufei, not for me, not even for this entire damn country. So why the hell are you here?”

It was like he was cracking a fucking code. Duo's eyes never hesitated on his, and yet they seemed to shift. From cool and sarcastic to… unsure. Like there was a wall between his eyes and his emotions. Heero pressed on before Duo could speak. “Something happened, right? Is it J? Did one of the cops threaten you?”

Duo snorted. It was more angry than mocking. A tip-off that cops were definitely involved. “Yeah, right. Those cowards wouldn't dare do something that could get them caught. Now if you'll _excuse_ me, I have some shit to do.”

But Heero didn't loosen his grip even the slightest. “I'm not letting this go, Duo. You _will_ tell me what's going on.”

“Why don't you tell _me_?”

Heero swung around in shock, letting go of Duo. Wufei was swerving around the desks as he always did, walking straight toward Duo and him. “Wufei? What are you–”

“Maxwell, I've come to check up on you and give you an update.”

Heero turned to Duo. There was a bit of surprise on his face, but Heero saw it warm almost immediately. “Great! Thanks, I was hoping you'd have something for me.”

“What the hell?” Heero muttered. His mind whirred. Duo had looked too surprised for this to have been expected. His emotions had been plain for that split second. This was Wufei acting on his own. “What the hell are you doing, Wufei?”

But Wufei ignored him. “According to what I've found out, Carlton had gone in to speak with Fellur with both Mulvey and Fourne.”

“So those two are most likely involved, too, huh?” Duo rolled his shoulders. “Gods, I hate cops.”

“Maxwell,” Wufei scowled, and suddenly there was an old sense of camaraderie between them that did not include Heero. They laughed at each other. “In any case, do you have anything you wish to tell me?”

Duo hesitated. His eyes flickered to Heero. “Uh, I… can't. Wufei.”

Wufei nodded. “That's fine. I understand. As soon as I find something new, I'll let you know. All right?”

Heero turned to the two guards while Duo responded to Wufei. “You two. I'll watch over Shinigami. You go find Mulvey and Fourne and bring them in for investigation. Inform Khushrenada.”

Heero turned away from them before they could even respond and watched Wufei walk away. “Just what the hell was that about, Duo?”

Duo shrugged. “What? I asked him to figure out what was going on. It's no big deal, is it?” He sent Heero a mega-watt grin and turned back to his computer. “It's certainly not illegal. Now let's see what Romefeller's been up to, shall we?”

And he just started clacking away.

“Duo Maxwell.” Heero slammed his hand on the table the computer sat on. Duo glared hotly at him.

“Don't fuck up my computer, Yuy.”

“Shut up about the damn computer. I can't believe you're doing this. Who put you up to this? And how?”

“Jesus, you're really stuck on this,” he mumbled. His attention was on what was in front of him. “Hey, hey, hey. These guys don't suck.” He grinned a little ferally.

“You would never willingly work with cops. You said so yourself. Very vehemently.”

“So?” He cursed. “Fucking wall. If I'm getting one this early…” He typed a little faster. “Oh, hells no, you don't.”

“Stop it.” Heero grabbed Duo's wrist. The man immediately froze, most likely in order to make certain he didn't harm his precious keyboard. “Knock it off. You're being forced into this. I want to know by who.”

“What does it matter?” Duo stood up and wrested his wrist free. “You wanted me to do this. Why are you suddenly fighting me?”

Heero had absolutely no idea why. Logically, it didn't make any sense. But the thought of Duo Maxwell helping him and everyone else because he was being threatened just pissed him off. This wasn't what he wanted.

His fists clenched. But what _did_ he want?

Duo sat back down. “Good answer, buddy.”

Heero clapped the table again and hunched down. “Is this about J's orders? About _me_?”

Duo's fingers paused over the keyboard. “You're kind of arrogant, you know that? Why does my every action have to revolve around you?”

Heero's lips pulled away to show his teeth. “Because they have so far.”

Duo breathed in slowly. “Well, this time, it has nothing to do with you. So back off.” Heero simply grabbed the back of Duo's chair and pulled. Duo yelped as the chair scraped across the floor. “What the hell are you doing, asshole?!”

“Tell me, dammit! Being threatened is dangerous; I'm a fucking cop! I'm here to protect–”

“Then you're the only one!” Duo stood with a flourish and went straight back to his computer. “I have to do this. Now leave me alone!”

Just then the two guards returned. “Sir. Mulvey and Fourne are waiting for you in the interrogation room.”

Heero hissed. Both needed to be questioned, and right now he didn't feel like he could trust anyone. It took a deep breath and a very slow count to ten for him to be able to find the patience to deal with this. “Good. I'll speak to them. Watch him.”

“Yes, sir.”

He stalked away, pissed. Right now, he could completely empathize with Wufei's decision. In fact, he couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't the best decision.

But first… first, he had to find out just who the hell was threatening Duo this time.


	17. Lying From You

If he'd thought cracking into G.O.S.H.'s files was hard, he should have saved himself the breath to curse. Romefeller was airtight. He even tried the backwards gig, just to see if there had been another reason for J and his group to do it themselves, but no luck.

Worse, he couldn't make himself _care_. He was so angry with the situation that his focus would slip. More, having all these damn uniforms surrounding him and jostling him and _existing_ near him was hitting his nerves. Being forced to help these guys rubbed him seriously the wrong way. And damn him, but Heero Yuy had easily figured that out.

The man kept checking in on him, blatantly ignoring Duo's little escorts to peer over Duo's shoulder and grip his shoulder in warning.

He snapped down the Enter key and sighed. In the end, he just couldn't crack this code, and his nerves were fraying so badly he couldn't fully concentrate. In his mind, the image of what failure would mean popped up, and not for the first time, he made himself focus once more on the screen. Dammit. He couldn't let Heero Yuy be hurt. It was more than the kiss, more than his stupidity. It was something he'd never thought to feel. Especially for a cop.

“I am in way over my head,” Duo muttered and cast a dark scowl on the room at large. _Way_ too many uniforms.

* * *

“Wufei, I know you never really set up anything like that with Duo.”

Wufei was silent on the other end of the line, neither refuting nor agreeing with what Heero said. Instead he waited for Heero's opinion on the matter.

Heero sighed. “I… understand. Do you have any idea why Duo's suddenly being so cooperative?”

After another heartbeat of silence, Wufei finally spoke. “I've… investigated.” He hesitated again. “But my gut instinct says–”

“Threat,” Heero finished for him, unwilling to wait for anything else now that he had Wufei's opinion.

Wufei's sigh gusted across the speakers. “Yes, that's the only thing I can assume. Someone is manipulating Maxwell. Yuy, what are you going to do here?”

It was Heero's turn to hesitate. He knew what Wufei was asking. He just had no idea how to answer. “I don't know, Wufei. Right now, I'm only concerning myself with doing what I can _here_. I'll try to find out who's been threatening Duo. Can I count on you to do the same?”

“Of course,” Wufei drawled. “I have to protect my investment, don't I?” But then he was somber once more. “You have a very serious decision to make, Yuy. And it all depends on this. Do you love him?”

Heero stared at his phone like one might an alien baby. “That… is none of your business.”

“He's my client. I think it _is_ my business.”

Heero ground his teeth together. If Wufei used that damn excuse one more time, he was liable to rip something out of the man's skull. “Wufei, dammit–”

“It's a simple question, Yuy, and the answer doesn't have to be hard. So? Do you?”

Did he love Duo Maxwell? That question wasn't even fair. He certainly felt attracted to the man, but Duo Maxwell aggravated him to no end. The man was stubborn, independent, and worse, ever worse, he was biased against cops. When Duo was in trouble, Heero felt more protective of him than the usual bystander, but then again, the normal bystander didn't manage to lie straight to his face without getting caught. And after succeeding at that, the average bystander didn't usually throw himself at Heero after sudden psychological torture.

“You're taking a very long time to answer this question, Yuy,” Wufei pointed out, and Heero swore to deck the man the next time he saw him.

“Because I don't know!” Heero snapped. “I have absolutely no clue. He's attractive, but he absolutely pisses me off. He's the worst kind of character, and he hates cops.”

“Maxwell is the worst kind of character?”

Was it just him, or was Wufei being sarcastic? “One of many. You don't think J is involved in Duo's change of attitude, do you?”

“No. He didn't seem to care about that threat before. I suppose that would be because we're now on the lookout for something like what J had planned. Which means it's a new threat.”

That made sense. And wasn't it interesting that Wufei seemed to understand Duo's character? It was definitely strange, since they only knew each other through car maintenance problems. And yet they knew each other so well? “How do you know Duo hadn't cooperated after we caught him because he felt we were safe?”

“Wasn't he cooperating before that, when he _hadn't_ felt we were safe?”

“Yes, but what I'm asking is how you know him so well.”

“I trust him, Heero. When push comes to shove, Maxwell will do what he can for others. It's as simple as that.”

The last thing he wanted to hear was that Wufei trusted Duo. Even if it was obvious. Wufei hardly ever trusted anyone. It was like an unspoken law in the universe.

“Fine. I'll figure out what's going on.”

“You do that,” Wufei advised. “And I'll be doing the same. From my end.”

Heero snapped his cell phone shut, not liking Wufei's last words. From his end? At least where Wufei was, he didn't have to look over his shoulder. Heero rubbed his temple. It was looking like a very good idea.

* * *

Treize slapped down the files on his desk and stood. He knew very well that he had made a tactically radical decision. And he knew that what he was doing was not only illegal but unethical, as well.

Out his window was the parking lot behind the precinct and an apartment building that housed only the most patient or the most poor tenants in the city. Romefeller was out there, beyond what he could see, waiting to change everything. They were running out of time, and they had no more options. He had done not only what was necessary but also what would eventually lead to Romefeller's fall.

“And now things are turning out as I planned,” Treize murmured. His decision had been right. “Now everything will eventually work out. Though it won't be as you wanted, J.”

* * *

“Hey, don't so much as breathe on that, got it?” Duo snapped, glaring at one of his escorts. The man's hand froze in mid-air, just above his second fan. “That's essential for a computer as big as mine. If you break it, you'll wish you’d never been born. Got that?”

“You're threatening a police officer?” the man sputtered.

“Hell yes, I am.”

Duo turned away from the man, his attention diverted now that he recognized success. He checked the Romefeller window, glanced out of the corner of his eyes, and sighed like he was being tortured. Then he slipped up a different window and read through it.

Treize Khushrenada's life was an open book. Minor traffic violations when he was sixteen, an abusive mother. He went on the force when he was twenty-two. Merely nine years ago. The man had risen in the ranks ridiculously fast and had gained recognition as an ace cop. Duo sneered at that.

But the man had a deeper background if one knew how to dig for it. It took him a while and several tight reroute attempts, but Duo managed to hack in and read that, too.

Then he sat back and blew out a deep breath. He'd been right to get himself back to his computer. This Khushrenada guy was a hell of a lot more than he appeared to be.

“You don't have time to relax,” the touchy-feely copperhead told him. He started coming over to the screen.

Duo glared at him and pounded in a few keys, effectively switching from one window to the other. “There. Happy?”

The man took a look at the screen, but it was all hexadecimal and the guy had no clue what he was looking at. “What is all this shit?”

“'All that shit' is what's going to tell us about Romefeller. Why don't you get that Yuy bastard in here? I'd like to have a fairly intelligent conversation when I attempt to explain what it says.”

The man scowled. “I don't think so.”

Duo rolled his eyes and turned away from the man. He read the screen and pretended to concentrate. He'd already read this, had already figured out where to go from here. But still he hesitated. It was true that they needed to stop these guys; from what he could see, they had enough weapons and partners to truly start that war of theirs.

He ran a hand through his bangs. In the end, he had to stop these bastards. He cast a glance at the cops. _All_ of them.

* * *

“Quatre, I need to be alone for a while.”

Quatre frowned, feeling much more than was being said. “Trowa, you may be able to stand on your own now, but you're still a very long way away from being able to defend yourself.”

“I trust the person coming to see me.”

Quatre opened his mouth to argue further, but then he closed it and went completely silent. Trowa's guilt and conviction told him who his visitor would be. He closed his eyes and nodded. “But I'll be in the waiting room, Trowa. If you feel like you're in any sort of danger, get in touch with me immediately, okay? I mean it.”

Trowa gave him a little smile and gripped his hand. “Quatre, I'll be fine. But I understand,” he added quickly in the face of Quatre's glare. “I'll be sure to scream bloody murder if I need help.”

“Please do.” Quatre gave him another warning look before leaving the room and slowly making his way to the waiting room. He put his senses onto alert, listening for Trowa's emotions. And then he tried tuning in to Trowa's visitor's emotions, as well. When he felt the edgy frustration and worry leave the elevator, he was in the waiting room and ready to get some poorly-made tea.

* * *

Wufei walked in with a distinct air of agitation. Trowa cocked an eyebrow at him and lifted his good arm in greeting.

“Barton.” Wufei nodded a bit; it was all he did before simply sitting in the chair Quatre had just vacated. He leaned his elbows on his knees. “Have you heard?”

“Yes. Quatre told me. Duo Maxwell is cooperating with authorities now?”

“Do you have anything to say about it?” Wufei asked carefully.

Trowa rubbed at his injured arm. “My best guess? Not only is he unwillingly helping, he has something else in mind.”

Wufei grinned humorlessly. “Yuy didn't go that far in his supposition.”

“Heero still believes in the system and its abilities. He's still hopeful that the justice system will actually stand for justice.”

“So is Winner.”

Trowa didn't even hesitate at Wufei's prodding. “That's right. I'm considering telling him about all this, but for now I'd rather not get him involved. His position is precarious enough as it is, being the only son of a wealthy corporation. If he gets caught, his chances of getting away from his father's corporation would be long gone.”

“Still, both he and Yuy are still working for the cops.” Wufei smiled crookedly. “It feels strange to say such a thing.”

Trowa's eyes slid to the door, seeming to look past it to something far beyond. “I know. It feels strange, speaking to you like this. Usually you and I would be making fun of private investigators, scoffing at the idea of cops working for the wrong side.”

“Things have changed.” Wufei looked behind him, too. “For all of us. And not just in our ideas about our jobs. How's Winner?”

When Wufei turned his head back to Trowa, the man had decided that something out the window was interesting. “He's all right. There seems to be something he's hiding from me.”

“From you in particular, or just hiding?”

Wufei smirked at Trowa's blush. “Both, I think.”

“Well, I can guess what he's hiding from just _you_ , at least.” But at Trowa's questioning look, Wufei just looked idly away. “So he's waiting for you?”

“Yeah.”

Wufei grinned at the _sound_ of Trowa's embarrassment. “How will he know when your visitor has left?”

“He'll know,” Trowa murmured. “So what are you going to do for Duo? How do you think you'll find out who's threatening him?”

That was a question Wufei didn't really have an answer for. “I don't know. But I'll do everything I can.”

“And I'll help,” Trowa swore. Then he looked down at himself. “At least, as much as I can.”

“You can do plenty.” Wufei took out his gun, needing to test its weight again. It felt a bit strange; it was different than his police-issue. A bit heavier, with a grip a bit wider. He wasn't quite used to it yet. “Leave anything else you can't do to the rest of us.”

“Heero?”

“As soon as he finds out who's threatening Maxwell, Yuy won't want anything to do with the police anymore.” With a sigh, Wufei put away the gun again and shifted his weight. Damn, but it didn't feel right.

“You sound sure about that.”

“I know Yuy,” Wufei said with a tight smile. “He loves Maxwell.”

Trowa barked out a surprised laugh, one that continued even past the time when he had to grab his wound. “He will _never_ admit that.”

“No, he won't. And neither will Maxwell. It'll be our second challenge – getting those two to stop being annoying.”

Trowa outright snorted. “That will never happen, either.”

Wufei smacked the man lightly on the head, feeling a little lighter. “Don't jinx it, Barton.”

* * *

Duo couldn't fucking believe it.

He'd stared at it more than three times, rereading it over and over again like maybe it would change if he stared at it long enough.

Then he called over one of his little bodyguards. “Get Yuy,” he ordered.

“If you've found something, we've been told to have the information released to Chief Khushrenada first. No one else receives anything before then.”

Duo was about ready to split the man's head on the edge of his desk. “I don't give a damn. Your little Chief is just a wannabe behind a desk. He doesn't have dick to do with this case and I swear to God, you better fucking get Yuy or so help me–”

“Duo Maxwell, what the hell do you think you're doing, threatening a cop?”

Duo couldn't believe he actually felt relieved to hear that bastard's voice. “Yuy. Call this goddamn man off, please.”

Heero walked over to them with a rather pissed look on his face. “What's going on here?”

But the man moved away from Duo and stood in front of Heero, blocking his route to Duo. “I'm sorry, lieutenant, but you're not allowed near the prisoner at this time.”

“Prisoner? This man's charges have been dropped now that he's cooperating with the police. He's no longer a prisoner, but a specialist. And as he is working on my case, I am most certainly allowed to 'go near him.' Now step aside, sergeant.”

“I'm sorry, sir, I can't. Orders from the chief.” The man looked absolutely terrified. As well he should have been, facing down the precinct’s wolf.

“The chief?” Heero shot a look over to Duo, who looked at him rather blandly. “Why is the chief ordering you on solitary, Duo Maxwell?”

“Just in case I spill the beans,” Duo said back, challenging him. He gestured to his screen. “Since I'm a fantastic hacker when I need to be.”

“And modest,” Heero muttered. “You can report this breach to the chief,” Heero told his little barrier. Then he pushed the man aside and strode straight over to Duo. “So what the hell are you talking about?”

Without a word, Duo pulled up the right window and backed away from the screen.

Heero sent him a warning glare before stepping in front of the screen and leaning down. Duo looked over to the two cops and watched them send a nervous glance toward Heero's back. The one who'd been bothering the two of them was the one to leave. The other stood back and stared at them, looking like he'd be more willing to chew glass than deal with Lieutenant Yuy now.

When Duo looked back at Heero, he could understand why. The man looked absolutely murderous. He stood straight again with a jerk. “Is all this true?” he hissed.

Duo just gestured blandly to the screen. “I think it explains why he was so desperate that he threatened–”

“ _He_ did?” Heero turned to Duo and grabbed his upper arms. “Our Chief of Department?”

Duo shrugged as well as he could. “That kind of hurts, Lieutenant.”

Heero's fingers clenched for one second more, then let go. “Tell me everything, Duo.”

Duo jerked away a bit, almost like he was surprised. “Look, I've found something else you might be interested in, all right? I had time to kill, so I figured I might as well play around on my long-neglected baby.” He patted the hood of his monitor.

Heero hesitated. “What?”

“Well, I sure as hell ain't helpin' you fuckin' cops,” he said, flipping on his accent. “But,” he drawled, “I at least wanted to have some fun. I haven't played around in forever, you know?” But then he leaned over Heero and pressed a small series of buttons–

And his entire screen went blank.

“What the hell did you just do?!” Heero yelped, grabbing the monitor like doing so might miraculously bring life back to the thing. He turned to Duo. “What did you do?” he asked again.

“I expect you copperheads to cooperate with my P.I,” he said, and Heero ground his teeth together. “I'll boot everything back up once I get my computer back. After all,” he grinned, “all of my charges have been dropped, right? I mean,” he tapped his external hard drive like he was playing a beat, “I can't see how your Chief of Department would want his little trip outside of procedure publicized or anything.”

Duo grinned in triumph.


	18. A Place For My Head

“Hey, Trowa. Are you all right?” Quatre hardly knocked on the door jamb before walking in. Wufei had left a few minutes ago, his emotions a bit lighter but still focused. He'd felt a moment when Trowa's happiness had spiked, but he'd also felt a flash of pain shortly after that told him that Trowa's fit of humor had hurt him.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Trowa smiled up at him from the bed. “How was the tea?”

Quatre shook his head. “I could only manage a sip. I know it sounds rather superior of me, but I just can't stand that swig you all drink.” He smiled right back and sat down. The seat still felt like Wufei, of his tensions and his concerns. Quatre tried to push them from his mind. “I take it the meeting is over?”

“For now,” Trowa agreed. “But we have to make a decision. Quatre, there's something I have to tell you.”

Trowa's emotions were erratic. He was nervous and upset. It amazed Quatre, just how easily he could read Trowa, even though the man seemed so often to be so calm as to be unflappable. And the emotions were usually so incredibly smooth. “Don't worry about it, Trowa. Just tell me.”

The emotions slowed a bit, then calmed. Almost like a sea in a storm, when the weather passed away. “All right. I apologize.”

“It wasn't too much,” Quatre murmured, looking down. They'd never outright _spoken_ about Quatre's... ability. And yet they always skirted around it, careful not to touch directly upon it. Quatre wondered if it was because Trowa didn't want to push Quatre into anything uncomfortable or if it was because Trowa would rather not think too hard about it himself.

“Good. Quatre, I need to know what you think about everything that's been happening.”

Quatre slid a careful breath through his lips. Did that mean Trowa wanted to tell him about his partnership with Wufei the Private Investigator, or was it something else?

“Did something happen?” he asked finally, looking up. He bit his lip, not liking the dance he and Trowa were putting on. “Is this about Duo's sudden acquiescence?”

“Yes,” Trowa said rather bluntly. “You think it's sudden, too, then.”

Quatre nodded. “Yeah. Duo would never just fold like that. There's something-”

Quatre jumped a bit at the sound of his pager and frowned. “The number is Heero's,” he murmured. Without another word he snapped up his phone and speed-dialed the lieutenant. “Heero? What's wrong?”

“Are you with Lieutenant Barton?” Heero demanded.

Quatre cast a glance to Trowa. Did Heero know? “Yes. What is it?”

“Put this on speaker, please, and close Barton's door.”

“All right.” Quatre stood and did as bade, then clicked on speaker-phone. “All right, Heero, you're on.”

“Good. Barton, when are you being released from the hospital?”

“They say tomorrow, if everything goes well. They want me here for another day of observation.” Quatre returned to Trowa's side and sat the phone on the nightstand by the bed while Trowa spoke. “Why? What's going on?”

“Khushrenada has had relations with both Romefeller and our initial victims, including J.”

“What?” Quatre gasped. “What do you mean? Wasn't Chief Khushrenada the one who got Duo to…” Quatre covered his mouth. “You can't mean that…”

“That's right. Duo has so much as said it, though not explicitly. He's the one who found everything on Treize, of course.”

Trowa and Quatre shared a look with one another. Almost instinctively, Trowa reached out and grabbed Quatre's hand, pulling it down and gripping it tight. “Wufei? Does he know?” Quatre whispered. His eyes slipped to Trowa's, his gaze a bit wide, his cheeks a bit flushed, but Trowa was looking at the phone, so Quatre's slip wasn't caught.

“No,” Heero answered, and Quatre could hear the same hesitation in Heero's voice that was in his. “For now, we have to figure out what to do. Duo is refusing to give any help to us, but he did find information on his computer.” Quatre didn't need any ability of his to hear the reluctant gratitude and frustration that saturated Heero's voice.

“Duo gave us information for free?” Trowa asked dryly, casting a wink over to Quatre. “Do you think he did it as a gift for someone?”

“Like who?” Heero demanded. “Wufei’s already on his team.”

Quatre covered his mouth with his other hand, trying to hold back the sound that would match Trowa's smirk.

“Anyway,” Trowa managed, “do you have said information?”

Heero hesitated. “No. Only Wufei, apparently, will be getting this information. So I have a choice to give to the both of you. Duo Maxwell has already informed Treize of his findings on his past, and because of that has been allowed to walk out with his record completely cleared. We all have a choice to make, as well.”

Quatre held his breath, his eyes turned to Trowa. “I… I can't follow under someone who…”

Trowa squeezed Quatre's hand. “I agree, Heero. He threatened a civilian. A man suspect of illegal dealings, but one as of yet unconvicted. We all became cops in this precinct for a certain reason, and each was for our own beliefs.”

Quatre almost cried in relief. “Heero, I'll be handing in my badge.” He looked over at Trowa, who nodded. “We both will.”

“Then we'll all meet up with Wufei,” Heero sighed. “I'll meet the two of you in here tomorrow morning, and we'll all hand in our badges together. After that, we'll trust Wufei to get in touch with Duo and inform us all of what Duo's found. Are we all in agreement?”

Quatre smiled brilliantly. “You mean we'll all work together?”

Heero hesitated for a split second, then, “yes. That's what I mean.”

Quatre whooped, jumping slightly into the air, making sure not to pull Trowa's arm. Careful of Trowa's injuries, he nonetheless grabbed the man up in a hug. “I'm so glad,” he murmured. Trowa released his hand to pat his back. A wide grin framed the man's face. “Then we'll meet you tomorrow, Heero!” He jumped again, almost giddy with relief and happiness, and finally hung up his phone only after Heero hung up on his end. Quatre then hugged Trowa again. “We'll all be working together! Finally!”

Trowa couldn't help but chuckle at the blond. “Yes. I'm glad. It seems we're all finally going to be doing what we feel to be right without the boundaries of others.”

Quatre was in the process of picking up his phone again, this time putting it in his back pocket with his wallet. What Trowa said made him pause. “That's true, isn't it?” At Trowa's confused look, Quatre expanded. “I mean, I understand that we were all supposed to work together as cops, and that's why everything that happened to all of us… happened. But don't you think that maybe this was what needed to happen, anyway? Is this something that was expected, too? Were we manipulated into this?”

Somehow Quatre was calmed by Trowa's emotions, even though they didn't change for even a second. Or maybe _because_ they didn't. “Whether someone wanted us to make this decision or not, it was ours to make and no one else's. And as long as we're pleased with the decision we made, what could we care if it was what someone else wanted for us or not?”

They were the words he'd needed to hear. His worries were laid to rest with nothing more than that. “You're right.”

“Actually, what Heero called to ask us was exactly what I wanted to ask _you_. But there is one more thing I want to ask you, now that I have the time.” Trowa's eyes were steady, as were his emotions. And yet there seemed to be something more to them than there was just a moment ago.

Nervousness?

Quatre shifted from one foot to another, suddenly worried about what Trowa was about to say. “What is it?”

Trowa reached out his good hand and waited until Quatre held it with his own before continuing. “I wanted to tell you how I felt before any more time went by.”

“What?” Quatre asked intelligently.

Trowa's fingers were as steady as his voice, yet they gripped his almost to the point of pain. “I care for you. Very much.”

It was like a blow to his gut, only instead of bending him over in pain, it bent him over in hope. “But – Trowa, about what I can do–”

“I don't care,” the man said simply. “In fact, it's rather endearing. A part of you that proves how special you are.”

That was such an unheard of way to describe his ability that it took a moment for it to even process. When it did, it took another minute to understand what that meant. “You don't… hate it?”

Trowa's eyes were dead serious. “No.”

Hope sprang from inside him, poured through his very blood until it finally welled precariously in his eyes. “Thank Allah,” he murmured, and couldn't hold it back anymore. He reached in for a hug again, let their hands slip apart and buried his face under Trowa's chin. “Thank Allah,” he repeated, then again and again. “I was so afraid… I love you so much…”

Only then did Trowa's emotions jump and stretch. “Thank you,” Trowa murmured. That good hand wrapped around Quatre's back and gripped his uniform shirt until it was twisted up in those fingers. “I love you, too, little one.”

Quatre laughed, so relieved it felt like a clamp had been released from around his heart. “I'd been so scared…”

“Shh. It's all right now. I'm sorry I worried you.”

The clamp had held his heart so tightly that it _hurt_ to be released. Still. Still, he was glad it was gone. “It's fine.” He laughed again and snuggled deeper. “How couldn't it be?”

Trowa chuckled lowly. His hand loosened from Quatre's shirt and patted his back. “So you're a romantic,” he teased.

“Shut up,” Quatre responded and took a deep breath, relishing Trowa's scent below the smell of hospital antiseptic. “I'm having a moment here.”

Trowa just chuckled again, a little louder this time. “So am I.”

* * *

Duo grabbed Wufei into a fairly reluctant hug once the ex-cop entered his mechanics garage. “Wufei, my man! I'm glad you're all right. I freaked out when the precinct was attacked. I knew you'd be there with Heero, but there wasn't anything I could do to help either of you.”

Wufei patted Duo once on the back and let go, clearing his throat. “We were fine. I was more concerned about you during this entire damn fiasco. You seemed to go from one dangerous situation to another.”

“Yeah, you know me. I just can't live without adventure.” Duo looked around. “God, it's been forever since I've been in my garage. It feels almost nostalgic. How weird is that?” He cast Wufei a look. “So why are we meeting up here?”

“Because it's private, and I didn't want to traipse up to your house just yet. Yuy contacted me just before you did and gave me about the same information you did me. Only he informed me that you shut down your computer with a virus before you gave him your information.”

“It wasn't a virus, per se.” Duo grinned. “They could only do a quick check of my computer, since it was my property again. So I made it _look_ like a virus. Really, the information was downloaded to my external hard drive and hidden behind pictures.”

Wufei blinked. “With a couple of buttons?”

“Oh, I'd already started the program.” He shrugged. “The information is all available on my external hard drive. Both Treize's past associations and what I found about Romefeller.”

“Can you sum up the latter in a few words?” Wufei asked.

“Uh, how about guns and money out the ass?” Duo clicked them off on his fingers. “Wait, that's a lot of words. Then weapons and money. And I can't get any information on the leader other than his name. Duke Dermail, apparently. But Treize has had an acquaintance with Romefeller for a very, very long time. Before he met J, that's for sure. And then he met said asshole and – oops, sorry, Wufei – and they ended up forming some sort of partnership of some sort.”

Wufei held up his hand. “Whoa. Slow down. Start with Romefeller. What do you know about them?”

“They have enough weapons to provide for the population of a small country and enough money to buy one. And their leader is Duke Dermail. Some old guy,” he added helpfully. “I managed to find a picture of the guy from some magazine article about eight years ago. The dude was ancient then, so I'm pretty certain he's like the walking dead now.”

Wufei gave Duo a dirty look. “Anything else on the man?”

“He has some relation to Khushrenada. The two were close, that's all I know. That's pretty much it. I didn't go much further; I'd lost my patience with my little spider monkey buddies and wanted out of there. I can dig deeper if we go back to my place.”

Wufei nodded. “That would be for the best. But before we go, I want to know about Treize.”

Duo hesitated. “Hey, man, maybe we should slow down a bit on that one.”

Wufei outright fucking scowled at him. “You know about my relationship with him.”

Duo shrugged and look over at the wall, mentally counting the number of wrenches hanging there.

“Maxwell!”

“Yeah, okay! Yeah, I know.” He threw his hands in the air in an exaggerated sign of surrender. “I've known since before I met you, though, okay? I followed basic cop stuff. It wasn't my business, so I never dug into it or anything, but I know the basics.”

Wufei looked about ready to hit him. “That's just great, Maxwell. Anything else you dug up on me?”

“Your profile,” he stated baldly. He could swear Wufei literally ground his teeth together. “You can leave if you want to.” Even though Duo most definitely didn't want him to go. Wufei was his truest friend. Somehow, that had just… happened.

“I'm not leaving,” Wufei growled. “Though you have most certainly irritated me.” Wufei opened his mouth to speak again, but this time he was cut off by a female's voice.

“Duo! Duo, where are you?!”

Duo smacked his head with his hand. A deep, almost weary look of frustration pulled at his features. “Oh, shit. I can't believe I completely forgot about–”

“Duo, there you are! Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were with a customer.” Hilde entered the shop, her outfit a bright ensemble of pinks and purples. Her short hair was hidden slightly by a dark purple cap, her hands gloved in hot pink. Duo winced at the sight. Hilde's entrance was as wild as her fashion sense, but she quickly stopped herself short and looked vaguely guiltily from Duo to Wufei and back. “Duo, I need to talk to you about something. Um…” She looked at Wufei again, then right back to Duo. Her fingers starting twisting together. “As soon as possible.”

“Hilde, hold on one second. This is Wufei. He's my private investigator.”

“Hello, it's nice to – what? He's your what?” Duo imagined her getting whiplash and winced.

“So – wait. I just heard you got out of jail. Why were you there? What happened?” She turned back to Wufei. “What's going on here?”

“Wufei is here to help me out with everything, Hilde. Right now, there's something I need you to do.”

She turned to him. “Good! That's why I came here. What can I do to help? Just let me know, Duo, and I'll do it!”

Duo took a deep breath. “Hilde, I need you to shack yourself up somewhere safe.”

It was like hearing the veritable pin drop. “What the hell, Duo?! I sincerely offer you my help and you're telling me to run away?! How could you?”

“Ma'am.” Wufei touched the woman's shoulder. She turned to him, ready to spit fire. “I have friends that are also willing to help Duo. We'll all be doing everything we can. Unfortunately, going to jail is not the highest concern for him right now. And anyone associated with him is also in danger.”

“What do you mean?” She turned back to Duo. “What does he mean? Duo!” She grabbed his arm. “What's going on? You're in danger? From who?”

“Hilde, I'm afraid I can't tell you that. I don't want you in danger, too.”

“We're friends, aren't we? So shouldn't we help one another?”

Duo pulled her hand off of his, looking like it was costing him to do so. “Hilde, take this from my point of view. What would you do in my situation?”

Hilde raked a hand through her hair. Her little hat fell to the ground. It didn't look like she even noticed, let alone cared. “Duo, at least tell me what's going on.”

“There's a conspiracy,” he said, calculating each word. Wufei watched attentively. “And somehow I got caught up in it. Apparently it dates back to my childhood.”

“I remember the cops coming to you before,” she murmured. “You didn't say anything about it, so I just let it go.”

“I can only tell you that it's about my past. I can't give you any details, Hilde. And I'm trusting you not to pry. I promise I'll tell you everything I'm hiding. I just need to be sure that you're safe first. This needs to be taken care of.”

“Duo, that's not fair. I want to help you.” Her eyes were expressive. Wufei frowned; Duo was a kind person. Looking at eyes that desperate would make it difficult for him to say what he needed to say.

“And I want you safe.” His words were smooth, though Wufei caught the stiffness in his shoulders. Duo grabbed both of her shoulders and shook her a bit. “Do you understand me? I need you to go somewhere safe. Don't answer your phone, don't use checks or credit cards. Take all the money you have in savings and run. Can you do this for me? Wufei and his friends and I are all working to take these people down, but I won't be able to concentrate if you're not safe. As soon as you came here, you put yourself in danger.”

Wufei watched the emotions as they played over her face. He was actually surprised to not see any romantic interest, but then again, Duo had a way of creating deep bonds with people before they were even fully aware of it. It made sense that a close friendship could exist without any desire for a next step. Her emotions finally settled. He smiled tightly. Duo had done it again.

“All right,” she said quietly. “But you _better_ get in touch with me soon!” she warned, waving her finger in Duo's face. “And you'd better be okay!”

“Yes, ma'am,” he saluted, and released her. Then he turned completely serious. “Really, though, Hilde. Take care.”

“Of course!” She leaned up on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek. “You don't need to worry about me. I was a girl scout. I can take care of myself just fine.” She turned on Wufei with a quick twirl. “And you! Duo's really reckless and kind of stupid and _really_ stubborn. Make sure you watch him carefully, okay? I'll hold it on you if he's hurt!”

“Hilde,” Duo warned.

“I swear on my honor. I will take care of Maxwell,” Wufei said solemnly.

“Wufei!” Duo complained.

“Thank you,” she chirped. “I'm counting on you two!” With that she ran from the garage. Wufei turned to speak to Duo now that she was gone, but Duo just raised his hand for silence. He looked rather amused.

Not a minute later, she rushed right back in, smiling sheepishly. “My hat,” she muttered. Duo just nodded and grunted, smirking openly. “Shut up, Duo,” she muttered, glaring up at him as she picked it up. Then she ran off again.

Duo waited until he heard a car leaving before he gave Wufei the thumbs up. “Sorry about that, 'Fei.”

Wufei rolled his eyes. “Don't call me that. Now tell me about Treize.”

Duo hesitated all over again. He'd forgotten they'd been on that particular topic.

“Dammit, Maxwell, just tell me.”

“Fine, dammit. But it'll take a while to explain it all.” And Duo took a deep breath. “Treize, when he was a child, was often seen with Duke Dermail. _Several_ times. In fact…” He hesitated. “From the line of DNA I'd found, I would say that Chief Khushrenada and Duke Dermail are related.”

Wufei's breath stuttered out. “Related?” He turned away from Duo and covered his mouth.

“There's no proof, though, Wufei. I'm no scientist.” Duo held out his hands. “Okay?”

“And J?” he demanded, swinging right back around. “What about J? How does Treize know him?”

Apparently Duo needed to take another deep breath for this one. “I found a link between the two of them. Apparently they'd sent encrypted messages to one another's e-mail addresses since way before the two of them became job buddies.”

Wufei covered his eyes with his hand and shuddered. This couldn't be. Treize?

Treize had something to do with all of this?

It hurt to think it. He'd broken up with Treize, and yes, it had been because he didn't agree with Treize's way of resolving things. Treize would go to any lengths to get a favorable outcome, using any means and taking any paths necessary. For Wufei, the grays never outweighed the strength of black and white. He couldn't accept Treize's way of thinking, and in the end, it had led to the break-up.

But for all that… for all of that, he just couldn't have imagined Treize going _this far_. Threatening Maxwell? Most likely threatening another's safety in order to coerce Maxwell's cooperation? Switching from one of their enemies to another? What was that man thinking?

“Hey, 'Fei?”

Wufei shook his head at Duo's concerned tone. When he looked up again, his eyes were heard. “Then as we take care of Romefeller, we must also take action on the assumption that Treize Khushrenada is our enemy, as well.”


	19. Breaking the Habit

“Ready? Are you all right?”

Trowa nodded, but Quatre double-checked himself before agreeing and opening the door and leading Trowa through the hospital. Trowa still had a bandage on his arm and was obviously favoring it a bit, carefully making sure no one came close to it but Quatre. The blond opened the door for Trowa on the way out, then muscled Trowa into the passenger seat when they got to the car.

“Quatre,” Trowa hissed, but Quatre ignored him and leaned over to buckle him up. “Quatre,” he repeated, louder now.

“Trowa, shut up.” Satisfied with the sharp click that verified the buckle's connection, he sat back up and started the engine. “You'd hurt your arm, and we all need to save up our strength.”

Trowa seemed to accept that. Or at least he quieted.

“Has Heero contacted you again?” Trowa asked finally, and Quatre could tell his emotions were completely stable again. He shook his head. “All right. We just have to assume that he's waiting for us at the station.”

“I think he will be,” Quatre said quietly. “Most definitely.”

Trowa cast him a knowing glance. “You feel something.”

Quatre blushed. It was very tentatively that he nodded, his eyes focused straight ahead on the road. Morning shift was about to start at the precinct, and fellow cops would be coming and going according to their schedules. Quatre shook his head slightly; they wouldn't be 'fellow cops' soon. Soon the five of them – Duo, Heero, Wufei, Trowa, and himself – would be working together to stop Romefeller, hiding behind the thin cover of private investigation. They would be what cops sneered at.

Still, Quatre was happy for it. They could finally all work together – and better, he could get to know Duo Maxwell.

* * *

“We're joining you.”

Wufei was silent on the other line, most likely, Heero thought, due to shock. His lips thinned. Well, who wouldn't be? He was standing by his desk, his eyes glaring down at his paperwork, with other officers walking around assisting with the repairs on the building. And he wasn't doing too well grasping the idea of 'not my desk' or 'not other officers.'

“You and Barton?” Wufei finally managed. He sounded like his eyes hadn't returned to their normal size yet.

“Yes. And Winner.”

“All of you?” Now he sounded almost breathless.

“Yes. So if you and…” He hesitated. “You and Duo Maxwell are going somewhere, wait.”

Wufei was silent again. “Yuy. Why?”

“Because you're right. I can't stay here. Not with…” Not with both of my superiors acting completely beyond what I find acceptable. Both of them… he grimaced at the pained beat of his heart. Both of them had threatened Duo. Just the thought made him see red. “Not with what Treize and Rome have both done. Trowa and Quatre feel the same. Actually, I think Quatre is excited about it, if his reaction could be a clue.”

The last made Wufei snort. “That's true enough. We… we went over what Maxwell found through his computer.”

“He managed to explain it to you?”

“It was easier with the visuals,” he hedged. Heero's mouth dropped.

“You mean the bastard hadn't gotten rid of it? Is that what you're saying?!” It took two good, deep breaths to get back his equilibrium. A few of his nearby co-workers were sending him strange looks. He glared at them. “Fine. At least we have that. What can you tell me about it?”

“Sorry, Yuy. Not until you're out of there.”

His teeth ground against one another. “Fine.” His eyes caught Quatre and Trowa in the doorway, Quatre fussing quietly but firmly over Trowa's wounded arm. “They're here. We'll be at Duo Maxwell's garage.”

“Yeah. We'll meet you there. And Heero?”

He paused before he hung up. “What?”

“You can just call him Duo.”

Heero felt a cruel blush streak his face. He snarled. “This coming from the man who calls him by his last name?”

“Yes. But I'm not in love with him.”

With a hiss, Heero snapped his phone onto its receiver. He glared down for a minute, then growled at those officers dumb enough to stop and stare.

“Heero. Did you just get off the phone with them?” Quatre was fucking beaming at him. He almost felt obligated to glare at the blond, too, even though he'd found long ago that being angry with the blond took up far more energy than it was worth. Besides. Trowa would be pissed.

“Wufei,” he confirmed. “He's keeping the information until we've officially left.”

“Let's get to it, then,” Trowa said simply. It was the injured man who led the way, nodding in greeting to those who welcomed him back.

Quatre started scooting a bit closer to Trowa. “You know, I hadn't really thought about the... confrontation portion of this,” he murmured lowly.

Trowa chuckled at him. “So you knew we were going to see Treize but didn't realize that conversation would be involved?”

Heero didn't want to hear this. He, unlike Quatre, had thought long and hard about the fact that he would be entering the office of the man who had used him – or most likely him – to subdue Duo. Duo, who had stood up for his beliefs – bigoted as they may be – to the point of letting his friend quit his job, of potentially giving up his future. Duo, who had entered into his kiss with more fire than he could ever have expected. A fire that had lit him, too, and had burned him.

His hands clenched into fists. Yes, he'd thought about it. And no matter how hard he'd tried not to, he'd always ended up imagining punching the bastard in the face. And he always smiled at the thought.

“I know it sounds silly,” Quatre pouted, “but I hadn't considered it. I just thought about handing in my badge, and then I'd thought about going and meeting up with Wufei and Duo, and then about us all working together.”

“You skipped over something a little necessary,” Trowa joked.

Quatre lightly whacked him in the back. “I know that! But I still don't want to fight if we can help it.” His eyes twitched over to Heero. “Please?”

Heero knew the conversation had turned to him. “It depends on him,” he said, not really answering one way or the other. Quatre seemed to fully understand every nuance of his words.

Trowa paused outside the office. “Heero,” he said, and turned to him. Their eyes matched, and Heero knew he was about to get a miniature lecture. “We're going to become civilians. We can't do anything for anyone if we're in prison for decking the Chief of Department.”

“Let him try,” Heero said tightly. “I also have something he would like kept hidden.”

Trowa just sighed and let them in.

Treize sat behind his desk, his eyes scanning a paper in his hand. His eyes slipped up at the sound of their entrance. His face was partially hidden behind the paper, but Heero thought the man to be smiling. “Hello, the three of you. How is the case progressing?”

“It's not,” Heero said shortly. He was the first to unhook his badge and place it – rather unnecessarily loudly – on the man's desk. “And it won't. At least not by us.”

Treize put the paper down. “Oh?”

Quatre and Trowa laid their badges down much more calmly than Heero. “Yes. Oh. Did you expect us to stay,” Trowa asked, “once we learned what you'd done?”

Treize seemed to consider the question. Heero's fists curled once more. “No, I suppose not. So you wish to be melodramatic, like Chang Wufei.”

It wasn't a question, and Heero was in no mood to look at that calm, composed face for much longer. The lack of remorse was more than Heero's low tolerance could handle. His own cool was being brought into question.

“Yes,” Trowa told him.

Heero caught Quatre looking at him warily from the corner of his eye. He tried to get a hold of himself.

“Fine, then. I'm tired of dealing with it. Bleeding hearts have no place on the force.”

And Heero snapped. “Then just what–”

“Be that as it may,” Quatre said quietly, “those seeking justice without moral conviction don't have the right to authority. They're the same as that which they mean to stop.”

Heero turned wide eyes toward the blond, shocked. Suddenly the silence in the room had turned almost chilled, stunned speechless by Quatre's words. Very carefully, the blond unhooked his gun and set it down, then stepped back a pace. Trowa followed after Quatre, stepping back, as well. Calmed by Quatre's convictions, Heero, too, stepped forward and placed his gun down, staring coolly into Treize's eyes.

The man seemed more assessing than concerned.

“So. This is your decision.”

“Yes.” Heero answered for them all, watching Treize carefully.

“I see.” He leaned back in his seat and balanced his fingertips together. His elbows rested on the armrests of his chair. “So you're going to join them.”

“We'll fight for our own convictions,” Heero said. “And we'll stop Romefeller in our own way.”

“As Wufei would say,” Quatre said quietly, “we'll fight for our own sense of integrity.”

Something flickered in those careful eyes, something that made Heero's senses sharpen. “Yes, Wufei would say something like that.” Then those eyes closed off again and Treize was once more unreadable. “Leave, then. You're civilians now.”

“Not quite.” Heero's voice was low, practiced. “We'll be P.I.'s. We can easily get the licenses. And once we do, we'll take care of the problems you can't.”

Treize raised an eyebrow, but even had he the idea of what to say, they didn't give him a chance. As one, they turned and left, leaving the door to close negligently behind them.

Treize smiled lowly as they made their collective way to the station entrance. They were watched with amazement by their ex-co-workers. He let himself outright grin when the door shut behind their receding frames, then turned in his seat and faced the windows behind his desk. “There,” he breathed quietly. “It's been taken care of, J. They'll finish things now.” He chuckled and leaned back once again in his seat. “Such an interesting change in the script.” A grocery bag was blown across his field of vision. He watched it with interest. “I wonder how it will affect the final act?”

* * *

Duo stared at Wufei with the most supreme agitation he could muster at seven o'clock in the morning. “What?” he groused.

Wufei took in the rumpled white polo shirt and jeans, wrecked braid, and stance – the one where he leaned heavily on the door jamb to keep himself from both falling to the floor and falling back asleep and decking the asshole who deigned to wake him up at such an ungodly hour.

“Good morning, Maxwell,” Wufei said, far too damn lucid for the time. Duo worked up enough energy to snarl at the man.

“Keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Hm?”

“Never mind. Come on in.”

“Thank you.” Duo managed to get off the jamb and let his psychotically early friend inside. Wufei entered and headed straight for the chair. He sat down and crossed his arms. “Get dressed. We need to get to the garage.”

“What the hell for?” He closed the door and leaned tiredly against it for a second. Any day that started so early was inevitably going to be a bad one. Oh, he could work early. He could work on no sleep at all. He was used to working on all cylinders as soon as he woke up. But fuck if he felt like it. “You know what, 'Fei, screw you. I'm going back to sleep. You and I both know they aren't going to do anything today.”

“No, but Heero and the others are. And don't call me that.”

That got his brain in gear. “What the hell is that asshole doing now?”

“He's quitting the force.”

That caught him up _way_ short. “He... he's what?! When? Why? Is he crazy?!” Heedless of his hair falling in every possible direction from his braid, he stomped over to Wufei. “ _The_ Heero Yuy?”

“And how many do _you_ know?”

The bastard was bloody well fucking _amused_ by his reaction. “Shut up, _'Fei_. What the hell is Heero thinking? He's a cop born and bred. He talks like a cop. He thinks like a cop. He fucking _breathes_ like a cop, all measured and steady and bored and shit. Why the hell is he quitting?”

“Most likely because he can't agree with the ethics of his superiors.”

Duo cursed. Of course it was that stupid bastard Treize's fault. The asshole who thought he was going to lie down and roll over and let himself be used. Oh, no.

But still, though he was horrified to hear Heero had quit, and in a sense because of him (he didn't bother asking himself why he was horrified by that, since he damn well knew the answer), he was also... slightly pleased. Dammit. And how dare he be. Because he also knew damn well why he felt _that_ way, and he didn't like it.

“So, what? He quit?” And he finally clicked onto the rest of Wufei's statement. “Him and who else? Quatre and Trowa?”

“That's right.” Wufei cocked a brow. “And when did you get to be on a first-name basis with them?”

“With Quatre? While we were waiting for the ambulance. With Trowa? Never; I just started because it didn't feel right to call him Barton when I called everyone else by their first names, let alone because Quatre kept talking about him – Trowa, Trowa, Trowa. And I was kind've afraid I was sounding too much like you.”

“Funny, Maxwell. Now go upstairs and fix that hair of yours.”

Duo instinctively grabbed his braid. “Shit!” He glared at Wufei. “You tell this to nobody. Hear me?”

“If you're ready in five minutes,” he answered.

“No fair!” Duo wailed. He pounded over to the steps. “With my hair like this, it'll take at least ten minutes for me to be ready!”

And he rushed up the stairs before waiting for a reply.

Wufei chuckled lowly. Maybe, he thought, just maybe, that idiot Barton hadn't jinxed it, after all.

* * *

When Wufei and Duo finally arrived, the former looked a little put-out. It was probably because the latter was jamming to what could only be an eighties song.

“Here I am!” Duo shouted, blatantly ignoring the fact that the car had come to a total and complete stop. “Rock you like a hurricane!” And his fingers played an invisible guitar.

“Maxwell,” Wufei said lowly, then just gave up and turned the car off. Duo moved smoothly from a more elaborate string jam to a calm opening of his door. Wufei just shook his head and got out, smirking slightly. “Sorry we're late,” Wufei said as greeting. “Maxwell needed to get ready.”

“Because we were up until three, dammit, and you pounded on my damn door at seven.”

“I'd been up for two hours before that,” Wufei told him.

“Freak.” Duo closed his door and looked at all of them. They hadn't bothered getting dressed in their uniforms that morning, so they were all standing before him, for once, in completely pedestrian clothing. Duo went right up to Quatre and held out his hand. “Hey, man,” he said, and his voice was suddenly very sober. “Thanks for coming. All of you.”

“It's a pleasure, Duo. Really. We made our own decisions.”

Duo nodded sharply. “Okay.” He didn't seem too keen on looking at Heero. “So you're all civilians now?”

“As it were. We've already asked for our private investigator licenses,” Trowa answered. He seemed to be measuring Duo up. “We should be accepted soon enough.”

Duo shrugged, then carefully backed up from Quatre a couple steps, getting out of the blond's space. Apparently, he thought with a hidden grin, Quatre's interest was being reciprocated.

Duo very carefully didn't look over to Heero. It was... disconcerting? Hell, fuck that; it was downright devastating to see that man out of his uniform. In the uniform he'd looked nice, though the particular uniform was... unnerving. But now he was in simple jeans that hugged his legs and a tank top in deep forest green. Duo was terrified that his eyes would pop out of his head and devour the man.

And he was also petrified of the blush that seemed to want to tattoo itself on his face.

He managed to keep his brain functioning long enough to look down at Quatre's and Trowa's waists. “You guys will be getting guns, then, too? Like 'Fei?”

“Don't call me that.”

“Yes,” Quatre answered, grinning at their easy rapport. “We wanted to go out and get them immediately, but first and foremost, we needed to get in contact with you.”

“To find out what I know?”

“Yes. Among other things.”

Duo cocked an eyebrow at that one. “Other things?” He looked over at Trowa, then carefully stopped himself from looking to Quatre's other side and checking out Heero again. He cleared his throat. “Shall we go inside, then? Yeah, let's head in.” And Duo led the way to the door and pulled out his keys.

“You don't mind us working together?” Quatre asked, probably just to be sure.

Duo, however, almost fumbled the damn keys out of his hands. It took a very close bit of attention to keep the things in his hands. He cleared his throat again as he opened the door. “No, I don't mind.”

“Since we aren't cops anymore.”

It was his first contribution to the conversation, and the asshole just had to bring that up. He stuck the key in the keyhole and turned to Heero with a conviction to not look anywhere below the neck and above... the neck. “Yeah. That's about right. But who would've ever guessed that there'd be so many cases where my prejudice against cops would prove true that even _cops_ wouldn't want to be around cops anymore?”

Despite himself, he looked up into that face long enough to see Heero's teeth grind together. It was with a grim smile that he opened his garage door.

He froze in place. His hand stayed clutched around the doorknob. “Oh, God.” His voice broke.

Arms grabbed him around his waist and pulled him back. His hand was wrenched off the doorknob. “Oh, God,” he said again, and curled into himself. Wufei headed into the building first, searching through rooms and calling out “clear!” every few seconds. Quatre and Trowa pushed their way into the room. Vaguely he heard Quatre pull out a phone and punch in three numbers.

“Duo. Duo, listen to my voice. You need to breathe now. Inhale, Duo.” He felt the arms shake him a bit. “Duo, breathe!”

He gasped in breath, and his lungs hurt for it. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Hilde. Shit. Shit.” He turned around awkwardly in Heero's arms and clenched his fists against Heero's shirt. “Why?”

Heero had nothing to say, but Duo hadn't expected anything. What _could_ be said? When someone left Hilde's body in the front room of Duo's garage, a crude cardboard sign nailed to her chest. _Mind your own business._ He gasped in pain. She'd been attacked because he'd hacked into Romefeller's security systems and inventory files and… he bit his lip. He had to get himself under control. He had to.

They'd begun to move.


	20. In Pieces

It didn't look good for the girl. Quatre thought about it as he got the coffee and tea for everyone from Duo's small office in his garage. Heero had managed to muscle Duo over to the garage, had forced the keys from the man's hand and opened the garage door, had pulled the man inside and gotten him down on the small bench that sat far in a dusty corner. The hacker had looked too dazed to do much more than stare in horror at nothing.

Heero was with him, though. He would be fine.

Quatre saw the ambulance off, then turned to Trowa. “We need to get guns,” he murmured lowly, and Trowa nodded. After this, they needed to be prepared for anything. He turned to Wufei and explained their errand. Wufei gave them Heero's information – might as well use the chance to take care of his need, too – and sent them out with a warning to be careful.

As they drove off in Quatre's car, Trowa driving, Quatre sighed and leaned his head back. Trowa looked over to him, concerned. “Did her feelings hurt?” he asked.

“No,” Quatre sighed. “Or rather, she did, but not her emotions. I could feel her dying.”

He didn't see even a single change in Trowa's countenance, but he could feel the sudden turmoil in his emotions. They seemed to bounce for a moment – concerned, worried. Then the man tamped them under control again.

“I'm all right,” he assured Trowa before the man could speak. “Really. Besides, there's some good to be found in all this.”

Trowa frowned. “And that is?”

Quatre's smile turned just a smidgen evil. “Well, the lost romance between Wufei and Khushrenada may have difficult for me to handle, but the burgeoning one between Heero and Duo more than makes up for all of it.”

Trowa snorted. “And this is good because…?”

Quatre laughed outright, earning a sideways glance from his company. “Because Duo's hurting and Heero's worried.”

“Ah.” And when Trowa looked back to the road, he was grinning, too.

* * *

It was the streets all over again. The church. Everyone. Everyone he knew died, no matter what, and always because he was too weak, too confident. Too stupid.

And now, the curse had made its way to Hilde, and because he'd been so cocky as to push through Romefeller files and–

“Duo Maxwell, snap the hell out of it!”

He looked up dully and felt his heart lurch. Heero. At this moment, he was just too tired to deny the attraction he felt for Heero, the desire to be with him. And it terrified him, in this instant, because he knew his curse would kill the man he loved.

“Hi,” Duo said.

“Hi. Wake the hell up. Here – it's tea.”

His eyes flicked down; Heero was holding two cups in his hands. It took him a while to remember how to reach out and grab one, and then he simply held it, unable to think of what to do with it.

“Dammit.” And Heero plunked his own cup down on the floor and bent down in front of him. Duo blinked at him. “Duo Maxwell... Duo. Talk to me.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. If he started talking, he was terrified he would cry. He took a breath and tried again. “I can't.”

Heero's brows furrowed. “Can't what?”

The question confused him. “What?”

A part of him expected to see Heero grind his teeth, so he was completely lost when Heero's gaze fell into distress. “Duo.” His voice was calm. Calm and very, very slow. “What's my name?”

Duo frowned. “Heero.”

“And my last name?”

“Yuy.” He said the word with a tiny smile; thinking about it, Yuy sounded really dumb.

“And where are we?”

Duo scowled now; he was being treated like an idiot, and he didn't like it. “We're in my garage. About twenty feet from where Hilde was killed.”

“She's not dead, Duo.” But he could hear some sort of relief in the man's voice, and he had no idea why the man would be relieved when _he_ was the one saying Hilde was alive.

“It doesn't matter,” Duo said then, and he didn't know whether he was talking about his internal musings or Heero's words. Both, he decided tiredly. “She'll die. They always do.”

“What are you talking about?” Heero hissed, his eyes narrowing again, but it seemed like inspiration had struck because he leaned back suddenly.

Duo looked down at his hands. The cup he'd been given was much cooler now, and he'd been letting it slide slowly in his grip. It was about ready to spill. He considered the thing for a second, then decided it would be too much work to clean it up and tightened his fingers around it once more.

“Duo Maxwell, do not tell me you are thinking something as asinine as I think you're thinking.”

He snorted softly. “That sentence would be really funny if I felt like laughing.”

“Dammit, Duo–!” Heero stopped himself short when he saw Duo flinch away from him. “Dammit,” he said again, much softer this time, “that's not right. You aren't cursed.”

“Hilde's the only friend I let get close to me. She and I met each other… gods, how? When? And then we started a little salvage company until Hilde hit it big as an artist and I made up my shop. And then… now…” He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to cry. “God, what have I done?”

“You haven't done anything.” Heero took the cup out of Duo's hands, apparently seeing his disinterest in it. He laid it beside his own. “You're helping stop the people who do this sort of thing.”

“Do I have to keep losing those I love to protect someone else's future?” he asked softly, and Duo saw Heero's eyes soften in pain for him.

“No. You don't.”

It wasn't what Duo'd been expecting, and that fact more than anything else had him finally focusing on Heero. The man was kneeling in front of him – _kneeling_ – and had taken Duo's hands in his, those fingers curled around the backs of Duo's hands. And those eyes were almost expressive, almost gentle, as they looked up at him.

“What?” he asked stupidly.

Heero sighed and relaxed against him, and only then did Duo notice how damn tense Heero had been. “You don't have to give up anyone anymore. Not one more person, Duo.”

He jolted at the sound of his name on Heero's mouth. And hell if it didn't make him look at those lips. “I don't understand. Isn't it a... necessary sacrifice?”

“No. No sacrifice is necessary.”

Shit. He really loved this man.

“That's not… what I expected from you.”

Heero didn't seem to know exactly how to take that, but he didn't seem to like it. “Just because I'm a cop doesn't mean I'm like those you knew.”

“…Yeah.”

Duo was hyper-aware of those fingers, those hands, that mouth. Those eyes. He felt a sharp tug in his groin and prayed Heero, with his face and mouth so close to his crotch, couldn't see it. Shit.

And then something in Heero's eyes changed, something that made them deepen, darken. They took on a new glint, and suddenly Duo found himself unable to breathe.

* * *

“Quatre?”

The blond was tugging on his arm for all he was worth, literally leaning away and planting his heels on the ground and _tugging_. Trowa blinked back at him and met with a quickly shaking head. The blond mouthed something, then, when he saw that Trowa still hadn't understood, he murmured lowly, “moment.”

For a second Trowa thought Quatre was telling him he should wait a moment before going and seeing how Duo was, but then he remembered that Heero was with Duo and understood that the two were _having_ a moment. He grinned.

“Yuy! Is Maxwell lucid yet?” Chang asked, maneuvering around the cops Heero had ordered quiet and glaring around. “The damn vultures aren't here yet, but they'll arrive soon enough. We should go.”

Before, Trowa mused, Treize Khushrenada arrived. He looked over to Quatre and saw him frowning toward the garage. He bit his lip to hide a grin; Wufei'd ruined Heero and Duo's moment.

Sure enough, Heero led Duo out of his garage in a moment, two full tea cups in the braided hacker's hands. “We're good to go,” Heero murmured.

Trowa was well aware of how both looked away and down.

Damn. Wufei was going to kick himself.

“Great, because I can't wait to…” Wufei turned from the street where he'd been glaring out, most likely pissed at the idea of reporters, and saw Heero and Duo. He looked ready to spit. “Get out of here,” he finished in a low mutter. Trowa chortled, and Wufei shot him a rather dirty look.

Quatre grabbed the two cups and asked a cop to set them in the sink in the kitchen beyond the entryway. Then he ushered Trowa into his car, Trowa scowling as he entered the backseat, and then turned to Duo. “Since I'm with Trowa and Wufei's going to push along our permits, you'll be staying with Heero tonight.”

“ _What?!_ ” Duo screeched, but Quatre just went straight on through.

“We'll convene again in the morning after Wufei tells us we have our licenses. Be ready then, because as soon as we have them, we're having a meeting and going after Romefeller. Wufei's going to try to get them by noon, and then we'll be out of here. Got it?”

Wufei got into his car and started the engine while Duo gaped. “Wait – you can't-”

“Fine,” Heero answered smoothly, and Quatre beamed at him. Duo turned to the man and sputtered.

“You can't be serious!”

“You aren't staying alone now that you've been targeted,” Heero said, “and as an ex-cop, I know how to protect someone. You'll be safe with me.”

Quatre rolled up the windows and started the car as Duo snapped at him. “I can protect myself, damn you! And I'm not staying with you in your damn _house_! _Hell_ no! You can just – hey! Quatre! Damn you, don't drive off when I'm – _fuck!_ ”

Quatre roared with laughter as they left the driveway, Wufei close on his tail. Duo's braid looked like a snake in the air, whipping back and forth and he shouted at them, a fist raised in the air. Trowa was the one to catch Heero's eye as they turned away, and he shot an eyebrow up at the man in parting.

* * *

Duo was absolutely furious.

It was rather interesting to watch, in honesty. Duo was literally red in the face, more from anger than embarrassment, and was cursing a blue streak, one that made Heero's old workmates turn in surprise.

His eyes narrowed as two cops in particular made their way to them. It was most likely time for Duo's statement, since he hadn't been lucid enough to give it to them before. “Excuse me, you are Mr. Maxwell, are you not?”

“Oh, _fuck_ me. Just what I need – more fucking cops.”

The two didn't seem too surprised to hear Duo's words, and Heero realized just how far down the grapevine Duo's name had traveled. “Mr. Maxwell, we would like to ask you a few questions about Miss Schbeiker's presence in your garage.”

“Yeah, sure, why the fuck not? Ask me everything you want. I'm sure I hold all the answers.”

But despite his angry tone, Duo's eyes flashed hurt and pain and Heero knew the man was thinking once again about his... Shinigami curse. He roughly pulled the man's braid. “I'm going with you,” Heero said, his voice authoritative, and it said everything that neither the cops nor Duo argued.

* * *

Treize had heard about the attack on Hilde Schbeiker less than one hour ago, and he was already ready to move.

He'd worked like hell to get those five together, performing in ways J had been too cowardly, too narrow-minded, to do himself. He had no intention of allowing his uncle to gain victory over the nation or its people, and he had no intention of letting his hard work go to waste. He'd chosen his warriors, and he'd chosen the battlefield.

He would not lose his men, even if they were unaware of being his. And he would not lose the battlefield. It was too beautiful to not be the final stage.

Coat in hand, he stormed through the precinct, pushed open the door, and made a beeline for his car.

* * *

Two fucking hours. The bastards had held him for two _fucking_ hours, and his patience hadn't been the best to begin with. This was the third fucking time they were asking him if he'd been aware that Hilde may or may not decide to go to his garage, and the third fucking time he explained that he hadn't been expecting to see her for a while and even if she did think he'd for some reason be at work so damn early, she would have to wait outside because she didn't have a fucking key. No one but him had a key. Had he ever given anyone else the key? Um, what part of _no one else_ was confusing?

Heero, the fucking _bastard_ , was enjoying it. Enjoying it! Every single time he took a glance Heero's way, he seemed absolutely fucking _amused_ by the entire damn thing. He was about ready to punch the man's face in until he looked like a pug.

“Mr. Maxwell, is there anything else you can remember?”

“Remember? Lady, I've been telling you from the fucking _start_ , I have nothing _to_ remember. God, you cops are fucking _stupid_.”

Heero narrowed his eyes, and Duo felt a perverse pleasure at having successfully gotten rid of that damn amused grin. The female cop seemed completely undeterred by his little rant and simply turned off the recording and closed her tablet. The man beside her, obviously still learning the ways of the trade, picked up the recorder.

“Well, then, Mr. Maxwell, I believe we're done here. If you remember anything, please call-”

“Yeah, yeah, lady, I get it, really I do. You're doing your job, I'm probably pissing you off, and my own patience is non-existent. I _knew_ today was gonna be a bad day the minute I heard that damn bell ring at seven in the fucking morning-” Duo stopped off abruptly. Had it only been so few hours ago? It was only nine-thirty in the morning now, and he felt the need for a nap. A very, very long nap.

The woman actually smiled for him, though. “You haven't irritated me as much as others have,” she said, and he figured that was a pretty good compliment for how long she'd had to put up with him. She went to speak to Heero and Duo took the chance to run off. He'd gone in Wufei's car to the garage, so he was stuck waiting for Heero to finish talking while he waited on the man's car.

It was a sweet ride, really, and proof that Lowe had handed over some serious dough to the Asian. Duo had already popped the hood and was looking at the engine with a shiny, almost-glazed look when Heero finally got away from the questions Sergeant Jones kept hammering him with. “Duo, what the hell are you doing?”

Duo looked up and grinned. “Dude, you never told me your engine was fucking _sweet_.”

“You never asked.”

Heero headed straight for the driver's side and unlocked the door.

Duo went to the passenger side, unpropping the hood and scowling the whole way. “Dick.”

“I heard that.”

“Heard what?”

Duo barely managed to open the door before Heero pulled him in and grabbed his mouth with his own. Heat spiraled to Duo's crotch and burned.

Heero released him and smirked. “You were thinking about something inappropriate.”

“What?” Duo blushed. Heero knew he was thinking about the man like that?

He dumbly closed the door and buckled his seatbelt as Heero started the car. It was as he was gazing stupidly at the cops who stared, utterly shocked and appalled, back at him that he realized he'd called Heero a dick and the bastard was referencing _that_.

“Heero Yuy, you fucking _bastard!”_


	21. My December

Heero's house was _nice_.

It was annoying to admit, since the man had officially infuriated him on the drive over. Not by saying something annoying – no, of course not. Why would Heero actually _talk?_ No, the bastard was absolutely silent. Worse, when Duo had tried to turn on the music, the man had immediately snapped it back off. He'd been ready to scream five minutes after the drive started.

Still, the house was _nice_. He'd heard others talk about Victorian houses – he winced as he remembered that Hilde was one of those others – but this was the first time he'd actually seen one up close and everything. It was a mix of soft tans and warm browns, something Duo hadn't quite expected from such an ostentatious dwelling. And hadn't he read something about Heero Yuy living in a two-story colonial or something? Something much simpler than this.

“My house will be the first targeted,” Heero informed him, almost as if reading Duo's mind. He moved confidently through the ornate black steel gate and marched down the walk. Duo was about to follow when a man came up, tipped up a professional-looking cap, and proceeded to get behind the wheel of Heero's car.

Duo gaped in horror. The man had staff.

“They refused to leave,” Heero said, once again practicing ESP. His face was momentarily sad, but it quickly slid off his face. Still, Duo found the pieces clicking together.

“Ah,” he said, to let Heero know he got it, and they walked up to the door together.

It was the Odin Lowe guy. The one who'd been killed by J and his men. Heero, he remembered, had been left everything the man had owned. Heero had most likely tried to get rid of the people, but he couldn't make himself lose the house, and if people wanted to stay, Heero would most likely have let them. Because they were showing loyalty, either to Lowe or to him, or maybe both. And loyalty was gold to Heero Yuy.

“Hello, Mary,” Heero said, greeting the woman who opened the door.

She was a beautiful woman, her hair short and black and simple. She wore a suit, which didn't quite match my picture of a maid in the household, but she smartly saluted Heero – or whatever it was, lifting up the cap on her head. “Welcome back, sir. It's been a while.”

“Mary, you'll need to tell the staff to leave.”

“Sir, we've already had this discussion.” And the woman began to puff out her chest as if preparing herself for a long siege.

“That's not what I meant. This house may be targeted, and I don't want the staff here if it is.”

Mary saluted him again, but this time there was something in her face. Duo grinned a bit ruthlessly at it, already knowing the woman's answer. “I understand, sir, and I'll tell the others. But I doubt any of us will be leaving. Have we permission for weapons on the grounds?”

Heero sighed loudly. “You're certainly Lowe's staff,” he muttered, then said, “fine. And of course you can have weapons.”

“If anyone shoots at you or your guest, they will be properly dealt with.”

Well that sounded both ominous and promising.

Duo sent the woman a charming grin. “Why, thank you for that.”

She merely sent him a professionally polite smile. “Any guest of Mr. Yuy will be welcomed in this house. As long,” she warned, “as no harm is intended to be harmed upon Mr. Yuy.”

“Mary, this is the reason I don't come here.” Heero brushed quickly past her, allowing Duo a view of sweeping mahogany banisters and an ornate lobby. The items in the building weren't famous or extreme, but they were nonetheless high quality pieces. Duo looked around with a stunned gaze; this inheritance hadn't been properly detailed in the police force's documents.

He could have stolen from this house when he was a kid and been good for money until he'd graduated high school.

Heero led him past the lobby's tiled entrance – made, Duo easily saw, to elegantly mimic marble – and beyond the fluffy carpeting of the living room, which he could see led into a dining room-kitchen mix large enough for a small wedding reception, and then he was taken up those mahogany stairs. The upstairs was a little ridiculous, too; Duo easily counted six doors. He stared around as Heero skipped the one to the direct right of the stairs and followed him down the hallway on our left. They passed what looked like a sitting room – he'd had no idea those rooms even existed anymore – and then past a bedroom and what looked to be a closet, one activated from the actual hall. Then Duo assumed the door with less wall space was the bathroom, and finally only two doors remained. One, opened, showed an elaborate office space. Which meant the other was his room. Goodie.

“Here.” Heero swung open the door, and just as he'd expected, a bedroom lay in wait. It was big for a spare bedroom, as big as his master in his place. The bed was a Queen and had a navy blue comforter on it, the pillow cases a dark mix of the same blue and a deep black. The room also had two nightstands, one on either side of the bed, a tall dresser and a walk-in closet. Not to mention three windows that looked out on the field behind the house. Duo blinked, momentarily overwhelmed.

“Make yourself at home.”

Yeah, right. Duo swallowed down a snort. Home? This? He'd moved into a palace. Relaxation wasn't going to be high on his list.

Stupidly, his mind supplied him with a picture of just how thrilled Hilde would have been to enter a place like this. Fuck. He clenched his eyes shut and rubbed his temple. He couldn't think of her, of how... of how dead she was. He held no hope for her recovery; he felt like she'd already died. There was no way to recover from Shinigami's curse.

“Duo? Are you all right?”

Duo jumped a bit, surprised by Heero's familiarity. He remembered very vividly just how much of a baby he'd been earlier, and Heero's use of his first name alone was a reminder of it.

He cleared his throat. “Fine.” His voice was raspy, his answer late in coming. He glared at Heero, already anticipating the argument.

“Somehow I doubt it. Try that again.”

Dammit. He was on enemy turf, as it were, and that knowledge made the impossible conversation even more impossible. He was very aware of how he'd taken an unconscious step into the massive room, leaving himself trapped by Heero in the entrance. Shit, he was stupid.

“I'm tired, I'm pissed, and I'm freaking out,” he said. “How's that?”

“You're scared.”

He bristled. “Kiss my ass, Yuy!”

But Heero just stepped in after him, carefully keeping that exit blocked. Duo's eyes watched in hardly-hidden terror as Heero closed the door behind him. “You are afraid,” he said again, “that you're friend will die.”

His heart thumped. He couldn't deny it; the words, put together so matter-of-factly, left his body weak. He backed away a step, then turned resolutely to the window, trying to hide the moment of weakness he'd shown. “So?” he pushed antagonistically. His eyes raked the long stretch of field and eventually disappeared into a dense thicket of trees and shrubs. Any houses beyond were effectively hidden, lending an air of privacy that the gate in the front had initially enforced.

“If she dies, it's not your fault.”

“Yeah, you already told me that.” Duo's words were bitter, angry. A part of him, the logical, steady part of him, knew Heero was right. But no matter how much he told himself those exact same words, his mind listed out more facts: Solo, Father Maxwell, Sister Helen. Now Hilde, his closest friend. Who next? Wufei? Heero?

He shuddered. He couldn't do this. He couldn't work in a group. What had he been thinking? He would be sending the other four into death, working with them. He was going to get the others killed.

“So believe me,” Heero pressed, and Duo heard a small shuffling against the carpet that warned of Heero's approach. He turned back to the room.

Heero had gotten dangerously close in no time as all, only a couple of feet from him. Duo could almost reach out and touch. His fingers burned against his palm as he clenched his fist. How could he back out on them now? Was it already too late? Or would it be better to tough it out, to be with them to try to make sure they were safe? And were any of J's men left? If so, then he couldn't afford to leave. Heero would be targeted. Again.

Then what the hell could he do?

He had no where to go when Heero moved closer to him. Those hard eyes were dark, inscrutable. Sharp. Duo could feel the warmth of Heero's skin, and immediately the hot flush of warmth caressed his nerves. Shit. This was a problem, too.

“Duo, we need you at peak performance tomorrow. We need your abilities and your focus. Not to mention your drive. Can you give us that?”

Fuck, and the man had the presence of mind to talk about such damn things when they were so close to each other! It was infuriating. He ground his teeth and fought to keep his mind on Heero's words. Too bad his damn body was so _close_. “I can handle it,” he growled.

It took until Heero nodded and moved around him to the window to realize that he'd just agreed to be with them tomorrow. In an instant he understood that he'd been manipulated. “You _bitch_ ,” he hissed, his body tensing to fight. Heero just sent him a bored look over his shoulder.

“Oh? You finally noticed? A bit slower than usual, aren't you?”

He didn't even think about it; his fist was in the air before he could blink. Still, Heero was faster, and Duo's fist was easily caught. Duo moved in closer and used the momentum to quicken his second punch from his left arm. Heero didn't bother catching this one, instead dodging quickly to the side and pulling Duo's captive hand toward him. Duo pitched forward, off-balance, and in another short instant he was on the floor by the wall, his body pinned below Heero's.

A slice of white-hot lust hit him like a sledgehammer. Suddenly his anger was finding a new, more interesting outlet. He fought it like a wild thing, but his breathing was only getting heavier.

Heero seemed oblivious to it for a very, very long moment, watching as Duo pushed up against the hands holding his wrists by his head and very carefully testing the strength of Yuy's waist and legs above him. And then finally the man's face began to contort a bit, into a slightly shocked look of... of triumph.

“Don't even fucking think about it,” Duo hissed, guessing where Heero's thoughts were going.

“Why? You aren't a criminal, and I'm not a cop.”

Duo blinked, surprised that the words had actually left Mr. Perfect's mouth. It made his mind blank for a moment, and Heero took the chance to secure Duo's legs a bit more, effectively rubbing them together, leaving it apparent that both found the sudden position quite pleasant.

Duo took two large, gasping breaths, trying to think about the reasons why this was a really, really bad idea. Unbidden his thoughts from the past minutes flooded him, and he flinched. He knew, knew as well as he knew his computer, that if he had sex with Heero Yuy, the man would end up dead in twenty-four hours.

The thoughts left him cold, as cold as a blizzard. He couldn't risk it. It was ridiculous, impossible – but he just couldn't let Heero Yuy die.

“Let go,” he ordered, glaring up for all he was worth. But Heero only looked down at his assessingly, stripping his masks apart with practiced ease.

“Tell me that again in a minute,” he said finally, and Duo parted his lips to tell him again _now_ when Heero rushed his mouth down on his. A jolt arched Duo's back before he could quite think to stop it, an immediate spiral of heat that burst through his blood. Heero bent his head and nipped at Duo's bottom lip, surprising Duo into accidental surrender. Heero dove his tongue deep, his lips bruising Duo's, his fingers clenching tight enough to stop circulation to Duo's hands.

Duo was lost.

Heero's hips dug into his, grinding against him over and over again, until Duo found his own hips lifting in direct counterpoint, and before he could help it he groaned, low and deep, and the tension in him sagged and he surrendered.

Heero growled in victory and pulled Duo's hands above his head, braceleting them and grabbing Duo's hair with his free hand, forcing Duo's head back and to the side, giving him that small shimmer of deeper access, and he devoured. Duo pumped hard against Heero's pelvis, struggling for more, angry at the clothes between them. His breath rushed in and out of his nose, almost burning in its efforts. The heat spun and twisted inside him, too hot to bear, and his need to take drowned any other thought. He needed more.

But just as that thought slipped through him, Heero ended the kiss and pulled back, gasping, his chest wrenching breaths in and out. “Well?” he managed.

“Well what?” Duo demanded, tugging angrily at Heero's hand, still wound tight around his wrists. When it became apparent his efforts were useless, he tried another tactic, rolling his hips against Heero's. It at least had the effect of making Heero clench his teeth and shut his eyes, but Heero didn't reciprocate.

“Well? You wanted me to let go.”

Duo hissed furiously, completely disbelieving. Heero lifted his hips up, freeing Duo's legs, and then he released Duo's wrists and gracefully stood. And then he backed away.

Duo practically choked, holding back his words. He couldn't quite manage to move yet, his body still begging for the fire of Heero's body. His arms remained above his head and he tried to regulate his damn breathing.

Fucking hell, he was in _pain_.

“You can't be serious,” he demanded finally. His eyes fell to what looked to be an equally painful problem for Heero, but the man's face was absolutely empty. Duo wanted to scream.

“I'm absolutely serious,” Heero answered. “Do you still consider me nothing more than a cop? And would you only want to do me now that I'm not? These are rather important questions.”

“To _you_ ,” Duo snapped. Heero's heated gaze finally told him just how he looked, lying down gasping with his hands splayed above him. Like he was waiting for Heero to come back and force him into submission again. He quickly stood. “What the hell do you _want_ from me? I say no and you – you do _that_. And now you fucking _stop_?”

“Isn't that what you wanted?”

The innocent question ripped a snarl from Duo's throat. “You've caused me a _huge_ inconvenience, you fucking asshole!”

Heero looked down to his bulging erection. “I don't know that it's _that_ huge,” Heero murmured.

Duo saw red. “Don't you fucking insult a man like that after you torture him!”

“Torture?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Heero sighed and turned to the door. “We're done if you're only going to shout boring insults at me.”

“Stop being so fucking _intelligent!_ I can hardly _focus_ right now! Or was this a game? Did you not really find it all that interesting?”

He couldn't believe the words even left his mouth. His breath was so out of control he was surprised he hadn't passed out; he wanted to physically harm something. And he _wanted_ , desperately he wanted, and the harsh loss of the completion he craved was almost as bad as the throbbing pulse of his need.

Heero turned back to him, and finally Duo saw an emotion in those damn eyes: anger. “A game?” Heero's voice was silky soft. Dangerous. Duo was too livid to care. “No, it's not a game. I've never been more serious in my life.” He strode straight back to Duo, right up to him, until their noses were practically touching. “Do you want to finish it?” he asked, voice low. “Because if we do, you're never leaving me again.”

Duo blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.” Those eyes were hard, almost blank in their decisiveness. “If we have sex, it will be more permanent than any relationship you had or will ever have. Do I make myself clear?”

Duo gaped like a fish. “What? Wait – you? I thought you didn't fucking _like_ me.”

“Oh, no. I have found that I _do_ like you. Very much.” Those eyes narrowed even more. “Fuck your _curse_. I have no intention of dying, and certainly not from a relationship. And I'm not in the mood for a quick fuck. What are your other objections?” Heero didn't give him a chance. “Timing? Well, I'm not going to wait for a holiday to arrive before making any monumental decision. Danger? I have staff. Place? Can't get beds more comfortable.”

Duo's jaw just dropped lower and lower. He couldn't believe he was hearing this. And from Heero Yuy! His mind strained to think of a moment that might have warned this was coming and came up blank. Heero had _hated_ him. Hell, if he'd had any rational responses at all during this whole damn episode, it was the short flares of hatred he'd had for Heero!

“So what's your argument?” Heero pressed. “And if you even _mention_ the fucking curse, _I'll_ punch _you_.”

Duo hunched into himself protectively. “Next in line's Wufei,” Duo said. “I can't add anyone more. I can't protect everyone!”

“Who the hell said you needed to protect Wufei? He's been my partner for a very long time. If I'd felt I needed to protect him, the both of us would be dead right now!” Heero stopped when Duo flinched. “So it _is_ the curse. That's why you don't want this. Unless it's a game to you?”

“Shut up!” He didn't want to hear this. He couldn't afford to hear this. Heero had been the one to set up the damn walls. He'd been the one to cement the gate shut on their potential love life. Why the hell was he suddenly opening it? What was it that the man really wanted?

“Duo Maxwell,” Heero hissed, his voice so low it was hardly more than a breath, “do you or do you not want to be with me?”

Trick question. Duo shook his head, his eyes wide, his mask splintered to hell. “I can't,” he said brokenly.

“I didn't ask you if you _could_. I asked if you wanted to.”

Duo's breathing was ragged, but now the reason was wholly different. Why was Heero asking this? Why was he pushing it? Why was he teasing Duo with pleasure and pain and confusion? He needed his mask back. He needed his control. He needed-

Oh, _fuck_.

“No way,” he growled, and wiped fiercely at his face. Tears were dribbling down his cheeks and slipping to the floor. “ _Fuck_ me, I can't believe this.” His voice cracked. “Shit.”

“That,” Heero murmured, “I take to be a yes.”

“Goddamn you, shut up! I told you; I _can't_.” He backed up as Heero walked toward him, until he found the windowsill digging into his back. “I said no!”

Heero slammed his hands on the window and leaned in over Duo, forcing him to bend back against the sill and lean at a backwards angle. Duo pushed roughly against Heero's chest, but the sill bit into him painfully and instinctively he stopped.

Heero understood the reason for the capitulation; Duo could tell by the determined regret in those deep blue eyes. Heero rubbed their erections against each other again in consolation, and the pleasure-pain that had dwindled as he fought with Heero immediately returned. Duo bared his teeth at Heero, ready to bite him back if necessary.

“I love you, Duo Maxwell.”

He froze.

Heero's eyes were steady, his voice factual and intense.

Love?

His chest burned, a presence that grew proportionally to the clench in his gut. His throat worked for a time, but nothing came up. A cruel, sudden intake of breath told him he'd forgotten to breathe. He swallowed once convulsively, twice, then tried to speak again.

“How?”

But it was as if Heero had been waiting for him to ask, and Duo found that Heero had probably thought through every possible outcome, and that maybe that had been what had kept the fucker quiet in the car. He'd been treating his confession like a trial.

“I'd ignored it fairly well,” he admitted, but there was no regret or grief at his words. Only truth. “I'd considered it attraction, a realization that maybe women weren't the only sexually attractive creatures on the planet. I disregarded the other feelings.” Heero's arm muscles clenched around Duo. “Until Hilde.”

Duo flinched.

“Until her, I was fine,” Heero continued doggedly. “But when you began going into shock, I couldn't ignore the ridiculous concern. I'd had excuses before. You'd actually been in danger. But not this time. Yet still, I was afraid. Afraid that something might happen to you. And I was so damn territorial. No one was to go near you, no one was to speak to you. Not until I deemed you safe. That,” he said harshly, “was love.”

“I…” Duo couldn't find anything to say. He knew what he should have been saying – the three words right back. But it seemed clichéd, tired. Ridiculous. What could he confess? That he'd wanted to kiss Heero as soon as he'd seen him, or that he'd wanted to scream at himself, desperately not wanting to need a cop. Desperately wanting him near. It reeked too much of Heero's earlier condemnation.

“You feel something for me, too,” Heero said, sure of what he said. Duo blinked. “You kept putting yourself in danger for my safety. No offense, but I can't see you as that altruistic constantly. You aren't Quatre.”

It would have been an insult, but it was too true. From the start, he'd found himself attracted to Heero, distracted by him. It was Duo's turn to tense.

“I just need to know how much you feel for me. I need to know the answers to the questions I asked you before.”

Duo pushed against Heero's chest again, pissed at his last words. Needed to know? Why the hell was he suddenly pushing a discussion that earlier he'd crawled away from? They'd both silently decided to leave this entire thing unsaid. Just because Hilde... Duo's thoughts stuttered there, again.

He couldn't. If Hilde died, then his curse was real. If Hilde died, then Heero was definitely on the list. F he cut away from the man, maybe he could spare Heero's life?

He couldn't risk this. He couldn't do it. No matter that Heero's words had opened something almost girly in him. No matter that he'd felt something in him fly when Heero said he loved him. He couldn't have Heero die. He'd prefer Heero's hatred.

He clenched his eyes shut and fought with his heart and the tears pushing against the rims of his eyes.

And the phone rang.

Heero looked steamed over the interruption, but he went to the phone and answered it. A quick warning was sent to Duo via a glare. Duo took the chance to move to the middle of the room. He wouldn't be backing up again any time soon. The small of his back hurt.

“It's all right, Mary, I got it. Yes.” Heero paused, and Duo watched his eyes darken. “Yes. Yes, I did.” He paused again, and his eyes flickered over to Duo. Pain pulled across his features. Duo felt something in his gut drop. “I see. Thank you. No, I'll tell him. Yes, thank you.”

Duo paled as Heero hung up the phone. He thought he already knew what Heero had to say. He swayed where he stood.

Heero locked eyes with him. “Duo, I'm sorry. Hilde just died on the operating table–”

Duo's ears buzzed. His chest felt suddenly hollow, as if someone with a scalpel had simply slit him open and dumped the contents of his chest onto the floor. He vaguely saw Heero's mouth move, understood that some noise was from Heero's lips. Dumbly he waited for it to stop.

“It makes sense,” he said dully, when he thought Heero's lips had finally stilled. “It's fine. Kind of like being a cop, right? People die all the time. It really is good you aren't one of them anymore. A cop, I mean.”

His head whirled. He'd done it, right? He'd managed to do what he had to do and now he was done. Heero was silent, or maybe he was saying something, but Duo couldn't bring the sense to tell. He thought consciously that he might need to breathe, and he did.

“I think I'm going to take a shower,” he said randomly, and slipped out of the room.

Now Heero thought he was still obsessed with cops, and now Heero might back away from him before he got the man killed.

He stepped into the room he'd cataloged as bathroom earlier and dimly saw that he'd estimated right. He went straight back to the tub and stepped inside, leaving the lights off, not bothering with his clothes. He turned the water on and jacked the temperature dangerously hot. Then the water was falling, and even he couldn't quite tell if he was crying or not.


	22. Forgotten

Quatre staggered on his way up to Yuy's manor.

Trowa caught his arm and lowered them both to the ground, not caring that they blocked the walk to the front door. “Quatre?”

But Quatre was clutching at his heart, his eyes wide. “Something,” he panted, then tried again, “something's wrong. Very wrong.” He lifted his head up to the building, his eyes looking beyond the outer walls. Trowa looked, too, though he knew he couldn't see what Quatre did.

“What happened? Is someone hurt?”

“Not physically.”

The amendment didn't mean much, not when it crippled Quatre as badly as it did.

“They're still asleep,” he gasped, and Trowa watched as Quatre struggled to get his breathing under control. “That's why I didn't feel anything until now, but...”

“Quatre, what are you feeling?” Trowa felt useless, but he used his hands on Quatre's shoulders as an anchoring point. Early birds were chirping; it was about eight in the morning, late enough that they'd believed Heero and Duo to be aware. Normally Trowa would be confused by their lateness, but Quatre's reaction to their proximity answered all questions.

“It hurts,” he whispered, then, “Duo's crippled. He must have heard about... about his friend.” Tears gathered in the corners of Quatre's eyes. “He's raw, and something's biting into him. He's going to make himself _sick_.”

Somehow the word sick didn't seem to be used in its usual context.

“And Heero's hurt, too. Betrayal, regret, loss.” Quatre flinched at the roll of emotions, and Trowa's hands clenched on him. Something happened between them, and they're both hurting because of it. Neither of them is getting a restful sleep.”

“Great,” Trowa muttered. So not only were they so upset that they would distract Quatre, but they would be dead on their feet, too. “Should we wait to storm Romefeller?”

“No. Neither the organization nor their relationship can afford to wait.”

It was true, and Trowa helped Quatre to his feet. They couldn't wait. Wufei had just gotten their P.I. Licenses, and he and Quatre had managed to get guns, even one for Heero – that one had been gotten through Quatre's contacts, some Maguanac core that had already signed in to help them in their attack. Now all they needed was to get together and plan their attack. Before someone else got killed.

Quatre didn't bother with the door, instead leaning heavily on the doorbell.

The door opened much faster than Trowa expected, but Quatre wasn't at all surprised. When a woman was found to stand politely before the door, Trowa understood why. Quatre had felt her presence while he'd assumed Heero and Duo would be the only people in the building.

“Hello. We're here to see Mr. Yuy,” Quatre said politely. “We're his partners.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You'll have to wait out here, I'm afraid, until I can verify your words.”

Outside? Trowa frowned, but some of Quatre's tension seemed to ebb. “That's fine.”

She nodded and closed the door. Quatre watched something beyond the door that only he could see, and Trowa leaned against the railing beside him and looked around. The porch was relatively small, considering the height and size of the house, but it was picture perfect. Trowa wondered how many others there were on the property, and what all their jobs were.

Quatre stepped back from the door, as well. “There's three,” he murmured, “all of them going about tasks. One's in the garden in the back, two in the house. The woman's going upstairs.”

Trowa nodded. “I seemed curious?”

“And on-guard.”

The blond was obviously still a bit touchy when it came to his abilities, but slowly Trowa was being allowed into the man's world. He acknowledged Quatre's words with an easy nod. “Do any of them seem dangerous?”

“The woman isn't trusting us, but we gained a little faith when we agreed to stay out here. The others know we're here but are reserving judgment.”

“And Yuy and Duo?”

Quatre's lips twitched. “Sleeping still, both lost in their thoughts. You can call Heero by his name, you know.”

Trowa hid his grin behind his fall of hair. “I'm aware, thank you.”

Quatre seemed ready to jump on that, but he stopped and turned back to the door. Trowa quietly stood back up as the door opened.

“You may come in,” the woman said, politely standing aside for them to come in. “I apologize for making you wait outside.”

“I understand. I'm glad you had the forethought to do so.” Quatre led them inside, and Trowa took a glance outside, assuring himself that no one else was around, before allowing the woman to close the door behind him.

“They'll be a few minutes,” she told them. “Please make yourselves at home here.” The woman led them past the living room and its adjoining rooms and into what looked to be a second, rarely-used living room. “The master says there should be another coming?”

The master? Trowa cocked an eyebrow as Quatre once again responded. “Yes, our friend Wufei should be here in about twenty minutes. He should look harried and annoyed,” he said, trying to help.

The woman's professional mask slipped for a short second into a sardonic grin, but she coolly snapped it back on. “I see. Would you like any tea? Something to eat?”

“No, thank you, we're fine.” Quatre sent a quick look to Trowa to verify, who simply nodded.

“All right. If you need anything, please call for myself or for Salina. My name is Mary.”

“All right, we will. Thank you, Mary.”

The woman left, and Trowa took another chance to look around. The room was more decoration than anything else, and Trowa could tell from its pristine, bland condition that the room was merely furnished to take up space. The couch and chairs were all green with gold trim, the coffee table a dark brown, the china closet the same color. Inside the closet were pieces that seemed to have captured Quatre's attention, and Trowa had no doubt that they were a ridiculous price.

“I'd had no idea that Yuy had such a place,” he murmured softly.

Quatre nodded. “The house alone had most likely cost over a million,” Quatre said. “It's Victorian in style, but it's much bigger, and did you see the backyard? It's large, large enough that my father would appreciate it.” Quatre's tone was a bit disparaging. “And then there's this room. It has to have been used to impress the guests – the paintings aren't old, but they're authentic and of good quality. It's the same for the china. What's in that-” Quatre pointed to the closet “-could easily match a year's worth of our old paychecks.”

“Yuy's guardian left him quite a bit,” Trowa said softly. It made him wonder what kind of world the man had lived in – what kind of world Heero Yuy had found himself an unwitting part of.

“Probably in order to help him,” Quatre said, his voice slipping into whispers. “The air's still a bit fragrant with it – the love and desire to protect. My guess is that it's all Odin Lowe's feelings. He did everything he could to make sure Heero would be taken care of if anything happened to him.”

“He expected death?”

“Nothing definite – just a vague impression. A knowledge of what _could_ happen.”

Trowa opened his mouth to ask more, but Quatre shook his head. His eyes moved to the entranceway they'd come through.

Heero strode through the door, his jaw a bit tighter than necessary. Everything else about him looked fine. The only reason Trowa even caught the jaw was because Quatre's eyes flickered momentarily in pain as the man stepped inside.

“I'm sorry to make you both wait.” He looked around, an eyebrow already crawling up his forehead. “Where's Chang?”

“He called us as soon as he got the papers,” Trowa told him as Quatre riffled with his waistband. “He knew we'd be able to get here faster than him, and he wanted everyone ready when he arrived.”

“Has he been up all night?” Quatre got the gun out finally and handed it to Heero.

“No,” Quatre answered for Trowa. “He got up early and stalked the workers down until they gave him what he wanted. That one's yours.”

“Did you get one for Maxwell?”

Trowa didn't miss the hesitation before Duo's name, nor the wince of pain on either Heero's or Quatre's faces. “No. We didn't think it would be necessary. He should be the one to stay by his computer and send us information through that. Speaking of, Wufei thought of Duo's computer last night and gathered it all up. He's already apologized in case he messed anything up.”

“I'm sure I'll be able to fix it.” Duo yawned as he made his own way into the room, carefully coming from the opposite side of Heero. He plopped down on a chair and looked around gloomily. “Must you people always be up for damned early?”

“Most of us carry nine-to-five jobs,” Heero said. His voice was a bit too sharp.

“No,” Duo argued, “right now the only one with a nine-to-five job – which, I might add, he's neglecting – is me.”

This was strange. The two of them had been so filled with sexual tension when they'd left, Quatre had joked that maybe they'd go momentarily insane and just _do_ it. Maybe, he considered ruefully, they had.

But one careful look at Quatre, at the way the blond was uncomfortably shifting in his seat, told him that the sexual tension was thicker than ever. Which meant no release, whether good or bad, had come. Quatre's eyes were squeezed with pain, but those bright blue orbs were flicking back and forth between the two.

So Trowa needed to stall. “Well, you could always work with us,” he said carefully. “As a private investigator.”

Quatre cleared his throat. “That's right,” he joined in, his voice a little too excited. “You could be a P.I., too. And then we could keep working together, even after this is over.”

“No,” Duo said flatly, his eyes deadening. “I won't.”

Quatre's eyes widened, his surprise deeper than just in reaction to Duo's words. Trowa fought the urge to go to him, knowing that doing so could make Duo and Heero clam their emotions up. Then it would be impossible for Quatre to find out what was going on between them.

He settled with clenching his hands into white-knuckled fists.

“Too close to being a cop for your tastes?” Heero sneered to Duo. Trowa tensed at the cruel sound of superiority in Yuy's voice. It was different than how he'd spoken to Duo lately. Quatre was right. Something was very, very wrong.

Duo's eyes flashed something, something that looked a lot like pain, and Quatre silently doubled over. Heero and Duo were oblivious, however; Heero glared down at Duo from the doorway while Duo quickly turned away, thankfully away from Quatre's place on the couch. Trowa marched between the two of them, toward where Duo stood, knowing Quatre didn't want them to see him reacting to their feelings.

“All right, that's enough squabbling. Wufei isn't here yet, but we can at least lay down a few ground strategies. Duo Maxwell.”

Duo's eyes met with his, raw and empty. The man struggled for a second before he could grin slyly and lean back into his seat. Trowa recognized falsity when it screamed in his face. “You want me on my computer, right? So I can save your sorry asses?”

Something flickered into those eyes again, something heated and desperate, and suddenly Quatre gasped, his eyes wide as saucers. Duo turned to him bolt-quick and stiffened in place. With a curse he stood. “Get me my computer and I'll do it,” he muttered, and before Trowa could say anything, the man was gone from the room.

“Quatre?” Trowa asked lowly.

Quatre was watching Duo's progress from the room, his eyes slowly drifting upwards as Duo pounded up the stairs. Quatre's expressive eyes were taught with pain and horror. “Oh, Duo, no,”

“Quatre, is there something you want to share?”

Trowa and Quatre turned together toward Heero, who looked almost angry. But Trowa could see, below the anger and fury, a hurt, hopeful sort of longing. Quatre read that face and closed his eyes.

“Heero, you don't need to worry about whatever he said. Trust in what you see, not what you hear. Right now, there's nothing more important to Duo than being alone.”

Trowa picked apart Quatre's carefully worded advice as Heero's face pulled into a snarl. “Meaning Duo is lying about something.”

Heero flinched, the anger suddenly gone. “What?”

“Sir? You're last guest has arrived.”

Heero turned to Mary, his face still a bit shocked. “All right. Uh, send him in, please. And thank you, Mary.”

She nodded and stepped away again.

Wufei was a whirlwind of energy as he traipsed into the room, seemingly unsurprised at the opulence of the house, or perhaps more used to it than Trowa and Quatre. “All right, what have we gotten accomplished so far? Oh, _please_ tell me Maxwell is not still sleeping.”

“He isn't,” Quatre said, and they all watched as Wufei sniffed out the tensions in the room.

He turned on Heero. “Yuy, what the hell happened yesterday?”

Heero shrugged. “An argument.”

Wufei scowled blackly. Trowa moved forward and took the documents from Wufei's hands before they got crumpled, but he'd inadvertently left the man's hands free for other activities, and Wufei raised his fist to Heero's face.

“Stop!” Quatre shouted.

But Wufei's hand stilled on its own, and the man seemed disgruntled by something. His onyx eyes narrowed. “Yuy?”

Heero hadn't moved to defend himself, Instead he merely raked a hand through his hair and turned back to Quatre. “Winner,” he said lowly, “you were saying something earlier?”

“You _can't_ be serious,” Wufei muttered darkly, looking like he was reconsidering his earlier hesitation. “You fight with Maxwell only hours after seeing his friend dying in his workplace?”

“I was saying,” Quatre said, his words rushing over Wufei's voice, “that Duo's hurting, too.”

“Hurting?” Wufei echoed, his brows furling. “Wouldn't he be? He got the message, too, didn't he, same as me? That his friend had died?”

Heero nodded in confirmation of Wufei's question. “Yes, I told him myself. I… told him; I'd thought it would be… easier. For him.” His words slowed as something dawned in his mind. “He was lying?” he whispered.

“Yuy?” Wufei asked, curiosity obviously burning him, but something in him sensed pressing the matter to be a bad thing.

“I have to go,” Heero said dully.

“What about Romefeller?” Wufei demanded as Heero practically ran out of the room.

“Fuck Romefeller!”

Trowa laughed out loud as Heero sprinted up the stairs after Duo. “Well, I suppose it's up to us to develop the plan, then, isn't it?”

Quatre looked healthier already, and his grin now was broad. “I can't imagine they'll fix the problem, but we can always hope.”

Wufei sighed irritably. “I suppose there's nothing for us to do but take care of it ourselves. Those two.” He grumbled a bit more under his breath as he took back the papers and separated them into two piles. “These are our licenses and certificates,” he said, pointing to the smaller stack, “and these are some maps I'd found. I'd _prefer_ to confirm them with Maxwell and his computing skills, but...” He rolled his eyes.

“Is the computer in your car?” Trowa asked, standing. “We should get it.”

“It's already being taken care of by Frank.”

“Frank?” Trowa repeated.

“He works the landscaping,” Wufei explained. “He's always wearing gardening gloves, and his hair's balding. He has laugh lines everywhere.” He waved a quick hand over his face. “You can't miss him; he's always cooing to something green.”

“You've been here before,” Quatre stated.

Wufei sat down beside the blond and nodded. “A few times. Yuy doesn't feel comfortable here. He says it reminds him too much, almost as if there's something of Lowe left in this place.”

“There is,” Quatre whispered.

Either Wufei didn't hear that, or he chose to ignore it. “From what I've seen of these maps, there's a few gates to be gotten through before one can even set foot on the compound.”

Trowa sat in the chair Duo had vacated and leaned over to look at the maps. They were fairly poor bird-eye-view pieces. No blueprints, of course; getting such things would be the same as flashing giant warning signs.

“We can't be sure about anything with just this,” Quatre sighed. “We'll need Duo to look everything up, and he'll need to do it while we get ready, just in case they... just in case they catch him again. Then they won't have time to prepare.”

“I thought the same,” Wufei said. “With Duo's computer are a few communication mikes and chips. They act sort of like the blue tooth phones, only they're constantly tuned on to a frequency, like radio stations.”

“You mean those pretty devices the state never authorized?” Trowa said with a smirk.

“Yes. I hate to admit it, but things are much easier when you're private investigators.”

“That's because you don't answer to anyone,” Quatre said, grinning.

“And because we have enough money, mostly from you, Winner, and Yuy.”

“It helps,” Quatre agreed.

“Excuse me, sirs?”

Each looked up, Mary was at the door, and she looked harried. “I'm sorry; I would call for Master Yuy, but I'm afraid this is urgent. There's a man on the phone telling whoever's available to go out the back door and meet with him. He said you would understand if I mentioned the term 'little dragon.'”

Wufei shot up with a hiss. “ _He's_ here?!”

“Sir–”

A squealing crash of grating metal clawed at their ears, and a bright red flame burst from the windows. The glass wobbled in its seating in the wall as each man clapped hands over his ears. Mary dove for the floor and instinctively covered her head. The phone clattered to the ground.

Blinded by the light, Wufei nonetheless struggled to his feet and squinted out into the bright furnace of light and heat.

“Fuck,” the Asian hissed, and Trowa echoed his sentiments as he saw what Wufei had. “I need a new fucking car.”


	23. From the Inside

Heero swung open the door to Duo's room, ignoring the hard slam of the door on the wall. Before Duo could fully turn to him Heero's grip was on his upper arm, cruel and unflinching and practically spasming with the anger and confusion that coursed through him.

“Heero?” Duo's voice was almost tremulous.

Just hearing it made the red in Heero's gaze deepen. It couldn't be true. He didn't want to believe what Quatre said, even as the hope in his chest argued with him. He didn't want to believe that Duo had simply _said_ those things, those accusations. _“Good thing you aren't one of them anymore.” “Kind of like being a cop, right?”_

But Heero could remember how Duo had manipulated his words to make him believe something else, something other than the truth. How Duo had proclaimed his innocence without actually saying he was innocent. And he knew Duo _could_ have manipulated his words again. And he knew why. Oh, yes. He knew why Duo would do such a thing.

He savagely pulled Duo around to face him and shoved him onto his bed. Duo's eyes were wide as saucers.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” the braided man asked, but his tone belied the angry words. He sounded scared. Surprised. And _damn_ the man, but he sounded hurt.

“You have no right to feel that way,” Heero snarled. He slammed the door shut again and stalked forward. Duo pulled back on the bed, but one quick lunge had Duo's waist pinned onto the bed, Heero leaning dangerously over him.

“To feel _what_ way?” Duo demanded, but his voice was raspy.

Damn him! Those wide violet eyes, those bangs scattered over his face, that small nose, those lips parted in shock... Heero pushed the reaction to such sights into the very corners of his mind and focused on the other fire, the one that told him to punch the fuck out of the man in front of him.

“You lied?”

Duo froze, confusion dissolving, for a very short instant, into a new short of confusion, and surprise. And fear.

“You did,” Heero breathed, horrified. His fingers went slack.

Duo took the chance to push away, to gain a safe sort of distance. He rolled off the bed and stood on the other side, hands planted on the cover. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Save it, Duo. I've heard it all before. After all, I used to be a cop.” Duo flinched, but Heero certainly didn't care at that point. “So it's a good thing I'm not a cop anymore?” Duo flinched again. “How dare you,” Heero hissed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Duo asked, and Heero got to see the man's shoulders go back. Defiance. Heero was in no mood. “What the fuck makes you think I lied? It is a good fucking thing you're not a cop anymore. But hey, if you want to go back to that precinct-”

“Shut up.”

“Don't tell me to shut up!”

“I'll tell you anything I want.” Heero's fists clenched; if Duo weren't hiding behind the dubious cover of the bed, he'd be sporting more than a couple bruises by now. “I've had enough of your bullshit. You specifically said those things simply to push me away?! What the hell did you think you were going to accomplish?”

“I said what I was thinking! I didn't think you'd go nuts trying to explain it away!”

“Then explain what that was down there with Quatre Winner just now.”

Duo hesitated, and Heero saw his mind working furiously. “I–”

“Save it. I don't want any more of your lies.”

Heero was surprised at the tiredness in his voice, and surprised again by the hurt he felt when Duo flinched again. Another fear flickered in those eyes, one that Heero found himself captivated by. Duo Maxwell looked afraid that he, Heero, wanted nothing more to do with him. That flash of fear was what finally cooled the heat of fury in Heero's veins.

Duo Maxwell had pushed him away, but he still wanted to be with Heero, anyway.

Heero closed his eyes as he clicked everything into place. Yes, Duo had been afraid of his 'curse,' that crazy belief that he was the reason why everyone he was close to died. It was why Duo had said he wouldn't join their private investigation business when Quatre had brought it up. It was why he'd lied to Heero about how he thought of him, why Duo had talked about cops as if he still saw Heero as nothing more than a man in uniform.

But there was more to it, wasn't there? Duo, in pushing Heero away, was deliberately shoving away someone he wanted close to him. To protect him from the stupid curse, but there was more.

Heero breathed in deeply. “Duo Maxwell, I'm giving you one last chance. One.” He found he needed to take another breath before he could work around the clenching inside him enough to speak. “Do you love me?”

He heard Duo's breath stutter out, and he looked up into those swirling eyes. The man's emotions were plain, a war between what he wanted and what he thought he needed. Heero watched the masking smile slipping into place and felt something leaden fall into the pit of his chest.

“Please, Duo. The truth.”

The smile hesitated.

A roaring bang rocked through the air.

* * *

His first thought, the first thing that entered his mind as he watched his car go up in a sparkle of red and blue and white, almost as if attempting some sort of American patriotism, was a short, grateful piece of thanks to absolutely nothing in particular that he'd had Frank get Maxwell's computer out of the car. And then he was afraid, deathly afraid, because he hadn't verified that the computer or Frank were safe.

It would have been the very first thing he took care of, but he had something else he had to do.

He turned to Winner and Barton, the only other two in the room. “You two, find Maxwell's computer, and find Frank. Then search for Yuy and Maxwell. If they're still in one piece, grab those communication devices I was talking about. Hand one to Maxwell and Yuy, then come out to the back.”

“You're going to see Treize,” Barton said, apparently already knowing it to be a fact.

“Yes.” He had nothing more to say about it; he just pulled out his gun, checked it, and unlocked the safety.

“I'll take care of things here,” Winner said, and despite the fact that he'd been the lowest rank among them, his voice rang with authority. Wufei recognized the force of a leader and smiled grimly.

“Good. I'm counting on you.”

They weren't light words, but Winner accepted them without a movement of complaint. “Don't get hurt,” Winner ordered then, and then they were moving, himself through one doorway, Winner and Barton through the other. He automatically slid into an officer's crouch, his eyes and arms taking in the surrounding area. He made it out of the house without a problem.

Right outside, however, waited Treize.

Wufei's back teeth clenched at the sight of the man, even as a hot burst of need tightened in his gut. “Treize. What the hell are you doing here? We have nothing to do with your team anymore.”

The man took in his appearance, his face clear, as always, of emotion. It made Wufei's teeth grind. “I take it you weren't in the vicinity of the blast.”

“No thanks to you,” Wufei snarled. He trained his gun on Treize's head, even as he wondered if he had what it took to pull the trigger.

“I wasn't needed.” The man stepped toward him, utterly unafraid of the threat Wufei made. His eyes didn't even glance down at the gun. Instead they trained on Wufei, piercing him with that smug arrogance, that glint of knowledge.

“Stay back.” Wufei cocked the hammer. “I remember what you did to Maxwell, what you're party to. I won't let you have your way anymore.”

“Let me?” the man repeated, and those damn lips twisted into a smirk. Grass crunched lightly under the man's polished boots. He held out a hand to Wufei, almost as if asking him to dance. Or to hand over his gun. Wufei just barely kept himself from shooting at the fingers.

He steadied his breath, afraid he would start shaking.

“Wufei.” The man's voice was condescending, but understanding. Just off from the patronizing tint he usually gave Wufei. “There's more to this than you can understand.”

“It's too late for excuses,” Wufei snapped. “What did you want? Why did you call us out? Tell me. Now.”

The man sighed and dropped his arm. “Very well. I'll tell you a little bit. But I can't waste too much time with you.”

Waste? A pain shot up Wufei's chest, threatening to clog his throat. He swallowed so hard he almost choked. “You'll stay as long as it's necessary.” He tried to make the words as dangerous as they should have sounded, but instead he sounded almost… sad.

Treize's steel eyes glinted with something for a short second, shining momentarily with something that echoed with the pain lancing through Wufei's veins. But just as Wufei tried to focus on it, it disappeared and Treize was perfect and untouchable again.

“No, Wufei. I won't.” The man shook his head, still elegant even as the screams of far-off neighbors pounded down the streets. “Not this time.”

* * *

Trowa and Quatre found Frank on the floor, his body littered with shards of glass from a window that had broken from the impact of the blast. Quatre bent down to help him and Trowa took in the scene. Duo's computer lay behind the man, mostly untouched by the glass shattered and glinting all around it. The carpeting of the living room seemed to have caught some of the fall of one of the black boxes, but it may have been damaged, anyway. Trowa grimaced. It was obvious that Frank had been bringing in the last of the items when the car had exploded.

“Are you all right?” Quatre asked. His eyes glanced over the man's injuries and his head tilted slightly. “His wounds aren't severe, but he was surprised. His body's shut down in order to preserve his mind from this.” He indicated the smoldering flames still present from the broken window.

Trowa was already rummaging through the machinery. “Looks like Frank managed to get everything in on time,” he murmured, picking up what looked to be black headphones, those that curved around the ear. “Here, Quatre.”

He tossed one to the blond, who caught it and hooked it into his ear before settling down to take care of the worst of Frank's wounds.

“We should call for an ambulance,” Quatre said quietly.

“We should, but we don't have the time. Let Mary and Salina take care of it.” Trowa hooked his own piece in and pulled out his gun. “While Wufei takes care of Treize, we should get rid of our guests.”

Quatre pulled out his own gun and carefully checked it over. “Right.” Then he hesitated. “What about Heero and Duo?”

“The last thing we need is to get involved in their scuffle,” Trowa answered. The two flattened themselves against the wall and looked around.

Quatre took a small second to chuckle. “They're a bit confused, angry, but mostly they're taking measures against the danger.”

“Good,” Trowa grumbled. “Hope they get their heads on straight quickly. We don't have time for their crap.”

“Let's hurry up, then.” And the two made their way to the front entrance.

* * *

Heero had his new gun in his hand before Duo had fully recovered from the blast. “What the fuck?”

“We need to get downstairs,” Heero said, ignoring Duo's confusion. “We can't be caught up here.”

Duo moved around the bed and went to look out the window. Heero moved quickly, pulling Duo back, almost sprawling the two of them on the bed. “What the _fuck_?!” Duo growled, but Heero just put a finger to his own lips and slipped silently next to the window, carefully peering out. He didn't see anything, but he hadn't expected much. The explosion had come from the front, and this window looked to the back.

Duo moved up to the other side of the window, not bothering to look out, knowing he couldn't do it like Heero. “So? What do you see?”

“Nothing. Whatever happened occurred in the front.”

“Wufei? The others?”

Heero looked over to see terror in the man's eyes. His hands tightened on his gun.

“I don't think they were outside. Most likely they were in the sitting room still.”

Duo didn't look the least bit appeased. Heero left the window and quickly opened the door, swinging his gun down the hall. “Clear,” he murmured, and checked the rooms, calling out the all-clear when done. Duo came out and went straight to the closest room with a window that looked across the front of the building. With a growl, Heero followed.

Duo was peering haphazardly down, his eyes wide again. “Oh, my God. Wufei.”

Heero hurried to the window, worried now despite himself. He knew damn well that Wufei could handle himself, but bombs were bombs, and Duo was obviously scared. But when he looked down, pushing Duo away from the glass in the process, all he saw were chunks of Wufei's car all over the walk and garden. “I don't see any human fragments,” he told Duo. “Just metal. Your computer might be destroyed, but it doesn't seem that anyone was close to the blast.”

For a few seconds, the only emotion on Duo's face was deep-seated relief. And then the rest of Heero's words caught up with Duo's mind, and he sputtered in rage. “My computer?”

“It was in Wufei's car. It's most likely why it was targeted first.”

It was almost like he had been told a body _had_ been spotted, his grief was so intense. Then Duo's eyes narrowed in fury, fury that Heero hadn't expected to see on Duo's face in his life. It was almost manic. “They'll pay for their interference,” he hissed, and then he was on his way down the stairs.

“Duo! Dammit, you idiot!” He rushed down the stairs, as well, his heart in his throat. He was very well aware, at that moment, of how stupid they'd all been to not procure Duo a weapon.

Duo's first stop, apparently, was just past the lobby, his eyes almost shining. Heero looked carefully, making certain the man wasn't actually crying, before taking in the machinery piled up on his floor. Good. Duo's computer was all right.

But then the fool was moving again, his feet leading him into the sitting room. Heero saw the man freeze in place, heard the sudden choke of air. He followed Duo's footsteps, studiously avoiding the broken windows, which Duo had been too harried and inexperienced to do, and stopped, too, just inside the entranceway. The room was empty.

“Good,” Heero said, and Duo turned on him, ready to jump down Heero's throat for his words. “Calm down, Duo. Think about it. They wouldn't sit back when they're attacked. They must be taking measures against whoever's done this.”

“That's bad,” he murmured. “They can't – they're in danger.” He stood undecided for a short moment, his eyes torn, and then he was going back to the front of the building. Back to his computer.

Heero snatched at Duo's shirt and pulled him back. Duo turned on him again, but he just nodded to the window. “Pay attention, idiot.”

Those big eyes flashed, but when Duo shook himself free, he ducked down and crawl-ran over to his computer. Immediately things were re-situated and piled atop one another according to some unknown pattern, and things were plugged in. A loud humming rolled to a start. The fans. Then several lights blinked on, and finally the screen blared its start-up music. Duo sat cross-legged on the floor and bent over the computer in an uncomfortable angle.

Duo tossed him two small mechanical objects, and Heero caught them on instinct. He looked down and recognized the communication devices Wufei had practically drooled over when he'd first seen them on FBI agents. He placed one on his ear and pocketed the other, though he didn't know who it was for. Apparently two had already been picked up.

Most likely the last one was for Wufei, then. Heero rarely saw Quatre or Trowa without the other.

When he looked back over to Duo, the man had his device on, as well. “I'll hack into their radio system, whoever the fuck they are. And I'll catch them on satellite, if your house is available on one of them.”

“It is,” Heero said quietly, and watched those fingers fly over the keyboard. “I need to go out and secure the perimeter.”

He didn't miss Duo's sudden pound on the backspace key. “Got it. I'll do everything I can.” He looked furious about the fact that he was weaponless, and Heero understood the feeling. He was happy that he could go out and fight, and didn't envy Duo the wait he would suffer through.

“I'll be fine,” he promised Duo before he could stop himself.

The man hesitated. “Don't say that.”

Heero understood that, too, and didn't respond. He wasn't taking the words back. “When I come back, I'll expect an answer.”

He slipped out the front door, hugging the walls and quickly crouching behind the baby pines in the garden in front of the porch. He couldn't see anyone else, but somewhere out there were Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei.

And somewhere else, their enemies waited.

* * *

“There's no such thing as an 'intended battlefield,'” Wufei snapped, already fed up with Treize's words. All the man had talked about was plans and battlefields and something about carelessness. The man's poetic words didn't fit into Wufei's ideas of fighting and death.

What was happening right now to the others? Had Barton and Winner managed to find the ones who'd blown up his car? What had happened to Maxwell and Yuy? Was Frank all right?

He was wasting time with this man.

“On the contrary, a battlefield was set long before this fight began.” Treize smiled down at Wufei, that superior smile that said he was greater than those around him. “Just as you all were chosen far before you understood.”

“So you _admit_ you were a part of it,” Wufei snarled. His limbs, still outstretched with gun in hand, lost their weariness. “You admit that you manipulated all of us, killed those we loved and threatened Duo Maxwell.”

“Yes.”

He said it so calmly, so assuredly, as if it didn't matter at all. Anger and hurt roiled in Wufei's gut. “How could you?” he asked, though he knew the words were childish, though he could already guess the flippant remark Treize would give him.

“Some things are necessary, Chang Wufei. Has life taught you nothing?”

“There are lines that shouldn't be crossed!” His finger clenched around the trigger, even as his body rebelled against the dead weight in his hands.

“Why? Because society says so? Because you deem it dishonorable? What is honor but the choice of man?”

“You killed my master. You threatened my friend. How can you consider these acts acceptable?!”

“They, too, are merely people,” Treize answered, and he spread his arms wide. “Just like me. Are you willing to kill me, in order to uphold your sort of honor? In order to save your friend, whom I've led into a trap?”

Wufei's breath stuttered. His hands shook now. “What? What are you saying?”

“The battlefield, Chang Wufei, absolutely must not change. You and Heero Yuy both have something very important you must do. For that, I will do whatever I must.”

“What have you done? Tell me!”

“You should hurry,” Treize advised. “There are four enemies, I believe. I understand that Barton and Winner are capable, but I can't guarantee that they will win against Romefeller's people.”

And the man turned breezily away, as if he was confident of his safety, even with Wufei's gun trained on his skull.

Or maybe specifically _because_ it was Wufei's.

Wufei hesitated for too long, far too long. Despite the danger, despite the four enemies being somewhere on the premises, Treize Khushrenada left the scene and entered the trees in the distance as if he was doing nothing more than strolling in a peaceful pasture.

A trap. A plan. A battlefield that Treize had chosen, all for an outcome that Treize believed to be right. Were they going to fall into the man's plans despite their attempt to finish things their way?

No, he wouldn't let it happen.

Still… still, fear beat a loud, unsteady beat against his ribs. He feared for his friends, for Yuy and Maxwell and Barton and Winner, feared what Treize had warned about. He pulled up his gun, his arms trembling with strain, his body heavy with the weight of the questions raging madly in his mind.

But first he had to get rid of the men Barton and Winner were preparing to battle.


	24. Papercut

Duo stared at his computer screen in vague horror.

He knew he had to move past this. The information on Romefeller had to be opened up again; they were going to attack Romefeller, and they would _need_ the information. It would be better to face this fear of his and move beyond it _before_ the attack began, even if it meant getting the information on their attackers here a little late.

After all, it wasn't as if the information was what had gotten Hilde killed. Killed – his mind ground to a momentary halt, remembering Hilde's laugh, the stupid hats, the worried face, the way he'd told her to _leave_ – gods, he couldn't let the thoughts enter, or else he'd never be able to do what he had to.

He bit his tongue and ground his teeth in, and when the pain burst behind his eyes, he clicked the files open.

It had been his incompetence that had gotten Hilde killed. Still, the information was on his computer, backed up three ways to Sunday, and he needed the shit if he was going to stand a chance of keeping Heero and Wufei alive. He _had_ to.

His eyes scrolled dumbly through the information, and then he closed the information and left an easy way into it before returning to the satellites he'd hacked into.

He scanned through the images each picked up around this area at the time of the explosion and found two satellites with good, complete pictures of what they were up against. He smiled ferally and touched the communication piece in his ear. “Hey, you guys. Can you hear me?”

It took a short second, but then Duo heard the familiar voice of a certain blond, the sound loud and clear over the sensitive speakers. “Duo? That you?”

“Yep. I've got some pretty pics saying you have what looks to be at least two guys. One rigged the device while the other took care of the starting mechanism. I'd say there was at least one more monitoring.”

“Anything else?” Heero asked. It was a balm, hearing his voice. Duo took a deep breath to keep himself from shouting out to him. _He'd_ been the one to push Heero away. He needed to keep his distance. He needed to stay away from him.

“Do you love me?”

Duo's deep breath froze in his lungs. “I'm calling up more satellite imagery. Hold on a minute.”

“Holding,” Heero replied, and despite himself Duo shivered at the low timbre in his ear.

He searched back through time, then ahead, then looked through the other satellites. It was difficult, because he was putting a rush on it, but in the end he grinned in triumph. “A green van about two blocks away is responsible for your little fire up front. There's four of them; all guys, about one sixty to two hundred pounds. Street clothes, completely normal-looking. And the police have a call out for the house; they're about twenty minutes away.”

“Should we wait for you to say it, or shall we?” Trowa asked, his voice slightly sarcastic. Duo cocked his head to the side as he searched around for the last known locations of the four.

“Say what?”

“Say the comment about the police's punctuality issues,” Quatre piped up.

Duo laughed, a short, surprised burst, before stating baldly, “sounds to me like you just commented on it.”

“Ah, well. You can have the insult next time.” Duo heard a rustling noise across the speaker and could only guess that someone was moving.

Duo had a few minutes then to concentrate more fully, as Heero and Trowa traded information on their locations, and Trowa took a moment to explain where Wufei was.

“With Khushrenada?” Duo said, pausing then. “Is that wise? I know he's your boss, but can he really be trusted?”

“No,” Heero answered, and more rustling could be heard, even louder. Heero was on the move. “I'm going to the back of the house to meet up with him. Duo, do you have any more information?”

“I'm looking, but I haven't found them.” Duo's heartbeat paced even faster. How much time did they have before the silence was broken? “I'm searching for radio signals. I'll try to catch them in less than two minutes.”

“If you find anything, send us the info. I'll get Wufei his comm. link.”

“Right,” Duo said grimly. His fingers raced like wildfire over the keys, his eyes darting back and forth, almost too quickly for him to understand what it was he was looking at. Nothing, nothing, nothing... his search was pulling up blanks. Did these men have access to the satellites? Could they tell where the satellites could catch them and where they couldn't? Duo didn't have the advantage he usually did; over the Internet, nothing could beat him. But here, in the real world, nerdy abilities like computer skills couldn't save someone from a bullet. All someone needed to do was get into the house without him realizing it. Duo took a spare minute while searching through the airwaves to get a quick blueprint of the house.

Cameras and alarms were set up along the perimeter, but there were blank spots that just plain couldn't be helped. Duo studied them, his eyes narrowed. Then he pulled back to the airwaves and struggled over them for a few short seconds. His nerves thrummed. His chest felt almost cold, then hot, as he forgot to breathe not once but twice.

Finally a short hissing noise popped over his computer's speakers and a deep voice ordered “Garth” over to “Central.”

“Found them,” Duo breathed, and jacked up the sound a bit.

“The machine was not inside. Repeat: the machine was not inside.”

A slight pause waited on the line, then, “understood. Move on to second objective.”

Second objective?

“Sounds like their about to commence their next attack,” Duo warned. “Get ready for enemy encounters.”

“Roger that,” Trowa and Heero chorused.

“Gotcha, Duo,” Quatre said.

He needed more information. He needed to find the enemy. He needed to be useful, before...!

“I see them!” he shouted, sitting up on his knees in reaction. “One, two – I see three of them. The fourth is still out there somewhere, but three are circling the house, staying to the shadows of the security system. But the neighbor's security system is picking them up on its edges. One's to the West – Trowa, are you still where you said you were before?”

“Yes,” the man answered, his voice much calmer than Duo's own.

“He's about twenty meters to your left, coming in from about ten-thirty. Quatre, you near him?”

“Yes. Trowa's about five meters to my left.”

“There's a guy about fifteen paces behind you, hiding behind the patch of rose bushes next to the gate.”

“Got it. I'll take care of him.”

Duo heard more scuffling, and what may or may not have been the sound of metal. He braced himself for the sounds of battle that were about to erupt and studied the third one, just slipping off the edge of the neighbor's heat sensors. “The third's making his way to the back,” he said. “Heero, be careful.”

The pause was short, but it seemed to Duo to last three lifetimes. “Roger that.”

* * *

Heero could see Wufei, his gun pointed toward the sky. He seemed alone, but Heero nonetheless checked around before heading up beside his old partner. Closer inspection showed the Asian's eyes to be a bit glazed.

“Wufei?”

Wufei's body stiffened, almost reacting to the surprise with force. Then he blinked and looked into Heero's eyes. “Barton?” he asked. “Winner?”

“They're handling enemies. Duo's told them where they are, though one's slipped past his hacking skills.”

“Maxwell. Is he safe?”

“He's in the house with his computer. He's safer than us.” Still, Heero felt troubled. His friend wouldn't ask such a question unless he felt there was danger to be found, something worse than a few thugs. “What happened with Khushrenada?”

“I'll tell you after we take care of these assholes.” The distant look was quickly fading in those obsidian pools. “They fucking blew up my car.”

Heero smirked. “Shall we? Duo said one was on my tail.”

“Oh, really?”

Heero dug into his pocket and handed Wufei the last communication device. “Here, put this in and we'll get going. Duo's already found the enemy's radio signal and three of their locations.”

Wufei was connecting the thing to his ear when Duo spoke up again within the link, filling Heero's ear with the sound of his voice. “The license plate of the green van is Juliet Charlie six five seven six. I'll look for any leads while I search for those last two. Quatre and Trowa have engaged their targets.”

“Maxwell.”

“Wufei? Good; that means Heero's caught up with you. The third guy slipped off the heat sensors Heero's neighbor set up. Last I saw him, he was moving past the back of the house.”

“He should already be here, then,” Heero murmured.

“I'm doing everything I can to find him.” Indeed, Heero could hear a harried tension in Duo's voice, almost as if he were pushing to figure out everything, to have all the answers ready for them. It was difficult to remember that he'd only been out of the house for less than three minutes. In that time, Duo had found the enemy van, three enemy bodies, and the signal they were using. “As soon as I find even the slightest piece of information, I'll let you know.”

“Don't rush, Duo. Wufei and I can handle ourselves.”

Heero checked his gun one last time to make certain nothing would mess up when the time came to use it. “Wufei? Ready?”

“Of course.”

Duo was silent, but Heero well remembered the quiet entreaty for his safety. Duo had asked Heero to be careful. Whether he'd meant to or not, he'd proven just how important Heero was to him. Still, Heero was bound and determined to get his answer from Duo, of just how precious Heero was to him.

Even if he already had a pretty good clue.

He and Wufei split up, each taking cover in the dubious cover of the garden. Wufei hugged the small fountain while Heero crouch-walked through the larger flowers, moving until he was past the garden altogether and heading toward the edge of the property. Baby pines dotted the side of the wall.

“Yuy?”

Heero heard Wufei call to him, wondering just what he thought he was doing, but Heero knew damn well that if someone had slipped onto his property and come to the back, the only place they could possibly hide was here, in the trees.

Sure enough, two shots rang out. Heero rolled and winced as one nicked his arm.

Then Wufei was firing back, immediately giving Heero his back-up. He dove into the line of trees and searched quickly.

The man was already moving, leaving the trees for a triangular formation. Wufei's shots became much more accurate, even as the man zigged and zagged in an attempt to foil his aim.

Heero took aim, as well, just as the man turned to him. With one careful shot, he was down.

Heero heard Wufei reloading as he carefully approached their attacker. “Yuy, you stupid shit!” Wufei stomped out from behind Heero fountain, which now sported a nick in its perfect frame. Heero shrugged at the loss.

“Don't you disregard me!”

Now Heero paid attention; there was a strange tinge of fear in his friend's voice, one that was rare enough to make his body stand on alert.

“What is it? What happened?” Duo's voice came from over the link, and Heero cursed. Duo must have heard the gunfire and Wufei's exclamations and come to his own hasty conclusion. The man's voice was fairly calm, but it was being easily overpowered by his own horror.

“Nothing. One down,” Heero answered.

Duo hesitated for a moment. “Isn't it called 'status' or something?”

“We're both all right. Yuy's just being an idiot.” The two shared a quick glare.

“Heero, stop being stupid,” Duo ordered, the relief in his voice matched only by the rising fury. Heero grinned at it.

“Don't want to.”

“Do it anyway,” Duo advised. “They heard the shots. The last one was in the van, just like I'd thought. I think he's still in there, helping his – oh, shit. Hold on a minute.”

“Maxwell?” Wufei called, and now that fear was morphing itself on his face. Heero's eyes narrowed. Wufei knew something they didn't.

“Wufei. What happened with Khushrenada?”

Wufei actually flinched. “He got away,” he muttered, not able to meet Heero's gaze.

“I wasn't asking that. What did he say to you? Why did he come?”

Wufei nodded toward the front of the house. “I'll tell you, but first we have to make sure the others are all right.

Heero hesitated, but he knew Wufei was right. They had to get rid of the danger that was right in front of them before dealing with the danger that was waiting for them. He called out for Duo, but only got a quick “not now” for his efforts. So they skulked around the side of the house, hugging the building, straining their eyes. They heard a gunshot then and grimaced. Duo had said that Trowa and Quatre had engaged their enemies, but they'd been so obsessed with their own fight that they hadn't listened to gunshots in the distance.

Silently they moved in, each hugging the dirt and the house and the porch as they crept into the fight.

* * *

Trowa had managed through luck to take out his enemy. The man had been jumping from shrub to shrub, shooting sporadically into the nest Trowa had made of his own cover. He'd been forced to roll, and Quatre, busy keeping his own enemy at bay, wasn't able to shoot any cover fire for Trowa. So he'd been forced to make his own. Mid-roll, he'd let off a wild shot.

He'd been more surprised than his enemy when the man cried out and fell.

But then he was out in the open, and Quatre's target had seen a good opportunity and had decided that a surekill was better than a potshot. Quatre shouted in surprise, maybe feeling what the enemy was feeling, and Trowa struggled to get into motion again.

A gunshot rang out, but it was from a place he didn't recognize; the enemy that had been aiming for him fell to his side, at an angle neither he nor Quatre could've possibly hit.

Wufei and Heero came out from the side of the building, their guns at the ready. Trowa smiled at the sight of the reinforcements.

Quatre stood from his place behind the front garden's trees and rushed over to the man Trowa had gunned down. Before Trowa fully understood, Quatre had kicked the gun from the man's hand and shoved his own right on the enemy's forehead. The blond's eyes were wide but almost feral, his teeth bared slightly. “Don't move,” he ordered, and the man didn't.

Finally it clicked in Trowa's mind that he'd been about to get shot.

“Thank you,” he murmured to Quatre. He, too, went up to the man and pointed his gun down. “Got any rope?”

“I'll throw some out for you,” Duo replied suddenly, his voice tense. “Someone by the porch?”

“Yes,” Heero responded. “I'll get it.”

“All right.” There was silence, then Duo's voice came on again, speaking a word Trowa had thought he'd heard during his battle. “Status?”

Each gave an all-clear, and as they finished, the door was opened for a quick second and a thick rope was tossed toward Heero. The man caught it and looked down at it incredulously.

“Is this from the bedding in the room I lent you?”

“Quit whining,” Duo shot out, the door safely closed again.

“Whining? You just ruined–”

“Oh, hush, you can buy another one, with that beautiful Carrera of yours. There was a call-out from the van, but now there's nothing. I'm assuming the man's making his move, but I can't be sure. Nothing's moving in the – oh, nevermind. He's coming out. I'll track him as long as I can.”

“All right.” Heero came over with the rope and bound their enemy. Wufei called out the death of the one he'd apparently shot, and Heero quickly told Trowa and Quatre that they'd killed the one who'd come from the back.

“There's four,” Wufei said. “This last one's alone, but he's also most likely the mastermind behind the attack.” Wufei's lips twisted into a snarl. “They'll pay for wrecking my car.”

“I've got a couple I've been working on in my spare time,” Duo called to Wufei over the line. “I'll finish one and give it to you.”

“Maxwell,” Wufei sighed, moving over to crouch next to Heero by the porch, “that would be too much money.”

“What are you talking about? You'll still be coming to me for repairs, won't you?”

Wufei seemed just as surprised as Heero over Duo's words, but the man seemed more shocked by his friend's kindness than the sort of future Duo was painting. “I thank you, Maxwell. And of course you will continue being the only mechanic I turn to.”

Heero's mind was on the latter. Duo had spoken of the future as if they would still be together. As if he would be staying in the area. Did that mean he would stay? But he'd adamantly refused to join their organization. What exactly were the limits of Duo's supposed curse?

It rose more questions, so many more than he could ask, especially with everyone able to hear them speak over the link. He'd have to wait, at least for a little while.

But he would get his answers.

“He's coming up to the front gate – and swerving. Shit; he's breaking away from the satellite feed. Do they fucking know where it is?” Heero could hear the faint clacking of the keyboard and took a second to marvel over the speaker system. Then Duo was speaking again. “There. He's to the right of the building, just like the old one had gone. Most likely he's checking the statuses of the others.”

“He's angry,” Quatre said, his eyes focusing on a point to their right, narrowed in concentration. “Angry and confused. He doesn't understand why his men are down.”

“Because we're better,” Wufei muttered, and Duo laughed over the link.

“He's coming forward,” Quatre told them.

“I'll leave the man to you guys, then. Do you have it, Quatre?”

“Yes, Duo. Don't worry. Do whatever you have to.”

“Got it,” Duo said grimly, and his voice over the link went silent.

Heero and Wufei situated themselves a bit better and double-checked their clips. They were both down one bullet, but otherwise they were good. Their eyes scanned the area to their right, pushing to see something more than just the wall and the greens.

“He's paused. He's… considering something. It's bad; he's feeling angered, but confident. Not about the battle, but about victory.”

“What?” Wufei asked, confused as Heero by that last part.

“He's being used by someone, and he knows it,” Quatre said. His voice seemed a bit strained, like his attempt to understand was hurting him. Heero could just barely see Quatre hiding behind shrubbery, and Trowa was most likely near him, but Heero couldn't see him.

“I can see you, Winner,” Wufei murmured, and in an instant Quatre was hidden completely from their sight.

“He's not afraid of being used. We wants it, as long as it means victory. But he won't be the one to win. Just his side.”

Heero watched the fear etch itself on Wufei's face again. “The trap,” he whispered, so low Heero almost missed it. But the wind pushed them straight to him, and he froze.

“Is that what Khushrenada said?” he demanded, his hand reaching out without conscious thought and grabbing his friend's shoulder. Wufei turned wide eyes to him.

“He's moving! He's coming over!” Quatre shouted, his voice pushing through their scuffle. “Thirty meters from the entrance, just where the house meets the front yard – Heero, Wufei, he's coming your way!”

They turned as one to the assailant, but he was already rolling away, even as he landed. Their bullets smacked uselessly into the wall.

Heero swiveled his gun over to the man's whereabouts as Wufei moved to a better position. They were in the open, where the enemy had come; nothing stood between Heero and their attacker. He shot another bullet into the trees, more to keep the enemy from aiming at him than to hit.

“Clear!” Wufei called, and then Heero was given cover fire. He jumped over the porch railing and rolled behind a chair, kicking it over for better cover. He didn't know where Wufei was, but he estimated a position based on the man's gunshots.

Trowa and Quatre were firing, too, aiming for the splash of baby pines and already destroyed rose bushes.

Dammit. It was only one man, but he was disappearing into the garden with practiced ease. “Wufei,” Heero called.

“Shut up, Yuy! It's my turn.” And the man hopped out from the side of the porch. Heero and Trowa gave cover fire, but Quatre gave a sharp, horrified yelp.

“Quatre!” Trowa shouted, and his firing wavered.

“No,” Quatre whimpered. “Oh, Allah, we–”

And over the speakers, a sharp, pained cry was heard. Heero's hand froze on the trigger.

That voice had been Duo's.


	25. Numb

He'd had to put the battle from his mind, to concentrate on the next step. The last enemy was on his way over, and Quatre, with whatever abilities he had, could follow the man's movements better than he could with the limited information he could find.

He had to go through Romefeller's files, its background, and its building. He needed _everything_ , not just the information he's pulled up at Khushrenada's insistence. His eyes were gazing down a three-dimensional graphic of the weapons Romefeller had illegally imported.

Their plans, he could see through just the tidbits he'd scanned, were simple. Start a war, then have all the weapons at their disposal. Nothing says money like war, and nothing sold faster than weapons. They'd already spread rumors through channels that another country, one on bad terms with their own, had illegal weapons. Duo had deleted some of those messages, but he just couldn't keep up with them all while taking care of everything else.

The bad thing was, from the looks of things, Romefeller seemed to want to gain control over the industrial world while egging on this war of theirs. Hell, it almost looked like they wanted to take over the entire country.

But that, Duo thought with a grimace, was an idea for crackheads. Take over a country by manipulation? The confusion of war would help, but could people really do such a thing just by selling people what they wanted and lying to them about the whole thing?

Okay, never mind. It very well _could_ happen.

Suddenly a message popped up on his computer, and he stopped going through the files. He became immediately aware of the popping sounds of the guns over the link, and the echo of them echoed through the house. He closed his eyes for a split second and struggled for control. He needed to keep his emotions in check; if he was having trouble now, he would be fucked when the actual battle began.

He read the message quickly and frowned.

Save the information and get away from the computer.

He traced the message back, even as he put all of the information into his three hard drives. Then, on a sudden thought, he sent it through his computer's data drive, recomputing it, and saved the file as 'Curse' and tossed it on his main screen. Then, to hide it, he threw up five other random files, each labeled something equally innocuous.

His fingers flew over the computer, typing quickly, locking each with a password. He hesitated on the Curse file's password; any other files opened would lead to the destruction of the computer, and a mess-up when attempting to access the right file would lead to the same thing. The password had to be one Heero could guess, but a name would be too obvious, and anything else might be too vague.

Just then, the information slid across his screen, telling him the message had been posted on a library computer, one taken under the name of Chang Wufei.

Duo pulled his lips back in a snarl. It had to be Treize Khushrenada.

And that meant danger.

Acting on instinct, Duo called up a hint box and typed in: my answer. And before he could stop himself, he entered his password and closed up the windows, until only the satellite feed was left. He couldn't see anything coming, but that wasn't surprising. Treize would know to keep his men hidden. He would know just how skilled Duo was – after all, he'd been beaten by Duo once before.

He pulled away from the computer and moved to the back. Since Heero and the others were battling up front, that could only mean the enemy would come from the back, avoiding them and coming straight for him.

Was it revenge? Did Treize want Duo to pay for tricking him? But that didn't make sense. Treize had gone through a ridiculous amount of trouble to get all of them together, and though they'd left the police, in the end they'd done as he desired. Duo had hated the idea of it, but it was better than dealing with the cops, and they had the freedom of being in charge of themselves.

So what was the man up to? Did he only want to meet with Duo? But then why tell Duo to save his findings?

Duo stood before the back door now, his eyes carefully scanning the area the way he'd seen Heero do it. He couldn't see anything, and the place was wide open save for the fountain in the middle of the garden. The plants looked absolutely trampled; it must have been from the fighting earlier. The body of one of their attackers still lay crumpled on the ground.

On second thought, it might be best to get back inside. He could hear the others in his ear, each shouting to each other. The gunshots still pocked the air. They were still in battle. He couldn't distract them. He'd just have to take care of this one himself.

He grinned ferally. That wouldn't be a problem.

He stepped away from the doorway and began turning around when a creak came from the dining room.

His computer!

Duo raced back the way he came, his eyes catching on his computer, lying on the floor still. It hadn't been touched. Yet.

In the dining room were two men, both dressed like normal pedestrians, muscled well enough to look like bouncers. They looked as if they'd been waiting for him to return; as one they pounced on him as soon as he crossed the threshold.

Duo was hugging the floor before they knew he was moving; like a spider he hugged the ground, then used his hands to launch his feet at an enemy. Heero's china closet was a victim to the man's flailing body, but the thing didn't fall over, so most was spared.

The other came at him as he twisted back to his feet, pushing him to the ground. He bit back his grunt and kneed the man in the groin before he punched the man square in the jaw. He lost a precious second getting the lug off of him.

The other grabbed Duo's wrists and pulled him forward. His balance gone, the enemy kneed him in the gut. His throat closed on his gasp; his lungs worked for nothing. Duo twisted his wrists free and stumbled away, his mouth working desperately for air.

The attacker reached forward, trying to grab him again, but Duo managed a tight swerve onto the china closet. Shards of glass stabbed at his back.

His lungs finally grabbed at air, and as silently as he could he gulped it in and swerved away from his enemy's punch. Still turning, he backfisted the man in the cheek and followed it up with a quick round kick from his left foot. The man fell into the closet, too, and finally the thing fell, trapping the man underneath. Duo winced at the sound of breaking glass, but no one on the link spoke of it, and he sighed in relief.

If Treize had thought he would be that easy to defeat, the man was an absolute fool.

Which Duo knew he was not.

Duo bent down over the men's bodies and shuffled through their pockets. He needed information, and as much as possible. If he knew what he was up against, he might be able to stop it.

One man's wallet was in his back pocket. The fool must have kept it in, confident in his abilities. The other had either stashed his somewhere or hadn't brought it on his mission at all. Smarter. Duo opened the wallet and read the ID, then scanned the cards and pictures. The man and a woman sat posed together, the woman's hair short and dark, her dress a bright blue.

Duo's eyes caught on the man's business card. His eyes widened, but he managed to keep the shocked gasp in his chest.

More. There were more of Romefeller's men here.

He had to warn Heero and the others, before they were attacked, too. There were more bullets flying, Duo thought, than there had been before. Was that because the reinforcements had already arrived? He had to get back to his computer–

A jolt of lightning shot through his nerves, a sharp thread of agony that laced from below his shoulder blades. With a short scream of pain, he fell to the ground, the wallet falling limply from his hands.

* * *

Wufei's grunt of pain was what pushed Heero's hand on the trigger again, even as his mind blanked and whirred and screamed.

Then Wufei's gun was firing, and through the gunfire Heero could hear his partner shouting out Duo's name, over and over, almost like a mantra. Hoarsely Heero joined him.

“Duo!”

“Down! Enemy down!” Wufei shouted, and Heero didn't wait for anything more. He rushed down the porch and threw open the door to the house. His eyes immediately sought Duo's computer, but no one was there. Panic seized his chest. He already knew, deep inside, that the house was empty, but still Heero ran around, checking every single room. He retraced his steps to the dining room when he was done and found Wufei already crouching on his toes, leaning over the bodies.

“They're unconscious, but alive, Wufei murmured quietly. His fingers shook.

“What happened?!” Heero snapped, the terror in his chest gripping his senses. He raked a hand through his hand. “Duo?! Answer me!”

“He can't,” Wufei whispered. Silently the man handed him Duo's communication piece.

Heero felt the air in his chest like a writhing thing. His fingers clenched cruelly around the machine. “Have you found anything? Any information?”

“No. There's nothing.”

“Romefeller? Khushrenada? J's men? Who? Who did this?”

“He's gone,” Quatre murmured over the link, and Heero listened in. “I felt it – I can't believe I didn't feel the enemies' emotions. I should have – if I'd been focusing more on the entire area and less on that one man–”

“Quatre, you did enough. We'll find him.”

“His back. He was injured on his back. That's what snapped me out of it; I felt such pain it shook my entire body.”

Heero couldn't hear anymore. He ripped off his own piece. “Wufei, what happened? You knew something. Tell me.”

“It's what Treize told me.” Wufei stood again and backed away from the bodies. On his face was shame. “He warned me that he'd led one of us into a trap. He said the battlefield couldn't change, that you and I had something we needed to do. I should have known – our greatest weakness was Maxwell. Both of us – he's our weakness.”

His fault. His fault again? Duo was being used to get to him?

“What are we supposed to do?” he asked, his voice laced with desperation and weariness. Unconsciously he locked the safety and holstered his gun. “Fight Romefeller? Without Duo's help? I thought we were all supposed to work together?”

Trowa and Quatre entered the room then, both looking down at the two men. Quatre's face morphed from pain to determination. “The first thing we need to do,” the blond said, “is get these two to talk. Trowa and I will take care of that much.”

“And what are we to do?” Heero demanded.

“For now? Get pissed. We'll use you two to get their mouths moving.”

He was already pissed. He was angry and scared and losing his control. They should have gotten Duo a gun. They'd been stupid not to, thinking they could protect him, that he'd be away from the danger. If he'd been properly equipped, would he have been taken out so quickly?

Well, he'd at least fought, and fought well. Heero didn't spare a glance for the broken china, only taking in the sort of battle that must have taken place. Duo had at least taken down two of his enemies before the rest had pulled him away. Because of that, they had a means to finding a lead.

“Duo had said that police were on their way, about twenty minutes. That was, what? Fifteen minutes ago? We need to leave.”

Heero looked over at Trowa, a frown on his face. “And go where?”

“Doesn't matter,” Wufei said. “We need to get Maxwell's computer and these two to a car, and we need to do it fast.”

“I'll take the computer,” Heero said, somehow possessive of that one thing that was integrally Duo.

“Then I'll take one guy, and you the other,” Trowa said, pointing to Wufei to be his cohort. “Quatre?”

“That's fine. Heero, you'll drive alone with Duo's computer. Wufei, would you mind taking the two unconscious men? It may be better if they wake up to you than to us.” Quatre didn't have to say why; they all knew that Wufei's reaction to their existence would only fuel the fire of his anger and guilt. He'd be itching to jump them if they woke up. “Trowa and I will follow. For now, we'll head over to my townhouse. It's closest to Romefeller's headquarters. From there, we'll plan our next strategy and get ready to attack Romefeller.”

“And whoever took Maxwell.”

“If they're different,” Quatre said.

Heero nodded, his thoughts cluttering together. His body seemed to understand what needed to be done, though, and they all moved out, each moving quickly. Heero had to move around Frank's prone form in order to grab Duo's equipment, and the sight made his stomach churn. He could only hope that Duo was in better shape, but somehow he doubted it. That knowledge made his gut clench so tight he could hardly breathe.

* * *

It was a hard-knock life, all right, and he knew better than anyone just what kind of sacrifices had to be made to ensure the greater good.

He wasn't thrilled about it. He wasn't happy that Wufei was pointing a gun at him, nor that he was on the outskirts of the “good guys,” the one that know one could trust, the one that lived squarely in the gray.

Still, he had responsibilities to attend to, and he couldn't afford to ignore them.

It had been tricky, speaking to his uncle about his five men. The two of them never really got along, always playing the farce of loving family whenever others were around, but always steely in their hate. Nonetheless, he'd managed. With the right amount of praise and the slightest hint of greed, he'd managed to make his uncle think that he wanted to enter Romefeller. It had bit at his pride, but it would be worth it.

To be allowed in, he only needed to give them something they didn't have. Well, of course he had some information on the man who had stolen information from their systems. Oh? They'd attacked the man's friend as a warning? That wouldn't do; there were more than just him, after all. Who was to say they would stop, too?

He'd carefully wormed his own plan into his uncle's mind, until it was as simple as saying, “they work as a team, each hinged on the other,” and then a short, “but he's the only one who can access your files.” And voilà. His uncle had demanded Duo Maxwell's capture for use as bait to lure the rest in. And then the fool had smiled at Treize and welcomed him into the group, his arms wide as if ready to hug. Neither touched the other.

And so Duo Maxwell had been led straight into a trap. He'd warned his uncle that they should be certain they get the right man, so they had to wait until he once again accessed their files. The four men were sent as a diversion, the explosion meant as nothing more than an attention-getter.

And it had worked. He's sent a message to Duo Maxwell to save his information, and though he couldn't say the man had, he was almost certain that he would. It was in Maxwell's style to be in control, to not lose his place or his work. He'd given the man just enough time to spare his machine before the hidden agents, there long before the explosion occurred, had jumped into the house and dragged the unconscious man out the back door.

So far, no one in Romefeller suspected a thing.

The battlefield, now, was the same. Now the attack could go off without a hitch, and at least two operatives had more than enough reason to make sure they got through to his uncle, who no doubt would place himself and his friend Tubarov near Duo Maxwell. And the two would be taken out, and Treize's job could finally, finally be over.

He just wished he didn't have to face the look of hurt and betrayal on Wufei's face. But it was a price of living in the gray, and it was one he was willing to pay if it meant stopping his uncle once and for all.


	26. Faint

The floor was hard. Hard and cold.

Duo noticed that first; the familiar feel of cruel metal under his cheek, the bite of chill down his arms and legs and the sweeping cold in his extremities. He didn't bother opening his eyes, already well aware of how dark it would be. Behind his lids he saw not the faintest shimmer of gray. He grimaced and moved to sit up. It was only then he realized the coarse feel on his wrists wasn't the floor he lay upon.

Rope.

He cursed. This was bad. He could remember, now, the feel of the taser snapping his nerves and arching his back, then the rush of unconsciousness afterwards. He must have been carted away, dragged down here while he was uselessly out of it.

He felt fear jump along his flesh, making his heart pump faster. Heero. Heero and the others didn't have him around anymore to help them.

He tugged at the bindings on his wrists, only to find that his ankles were wrapped tightly, as well. He curled into himself and rolled, trying to get into a position where he could shimmy his way into that damn sitting position. Instead all he did was exhaust himself. Heero, he thought with an annoyed snarl, could probably manage it.

Heero. What had happened out there? Had they defeated that last enemy? Had his cry ended up distracting them? Had the reinforcements managed to catch them by surprise? Were they prisoners, as well?

That last question made him finally open his eyes. He couldn't see anything; he'd been right to believe he was trapped in a sort of impenetrable darkness. Still he crawled around, searching out the edges of his room, only to find that he wasn't trapped within walls. His fury mounted as he deduced what he was banging against – bars. Metal bars.

He'd been caged like a wild animal.

It didn't take him long after that to realize the 'room' he'd been given was pretty damn small. He could sit up if he wanted, but the height wouldn't allow him to do much more. The sides were long, about enough for a couple of tigers to roam well, he'd assume, but tigers could never stand a ceiling so low.

Well, if nothing else, he could finally get up off his face.

With a twist and an embarrassing caterpillar move, Duo managed to grab one of the bars and subsequently shimmied his body against them. With the bars acting to lock him in place, he was able to lean against them and get himself up off the hard metal floor of the cage. He struggled to maintain his breathing after the interesting bit of acrobatics. His back, he realized, hurt like a fucking bitch.

He needed to find a way out of this damn hellhole. Heero and the others were most likely well aware of his absence and were either waiting it out or bulldozing in. Both were dangerous.

Like _hell_ he was going to be the weak link.

His bindings were rough, the rope coarse. He could already feel the warning signs of ripped flesh, and knew that struggling would only make his raw wrists bleed. Still, if he could reach into his braid...

He heard the soft clack of footsteps and tilted his head. A man, but the shoes were high-class. Duo get his feet fully underneath him and, after carefully balancing himself with his legs still bound together, pushed himself off of the bars. He faced the direction the sound came from, his gaze hard and condescending.

It took a short time, and Duo recognized the sounds of locks and bolts being unlatched. His eyes narrowed as he listened to the minute clicks and bumps, committing the tiny noises to memory.

And then the door was open, and Duo snarled. He recognized the face before him, had seen it plenty of times when hacking through the files. With white hair covering his face and head, small, narrow eyes, and a suit tailored almost like a military outfit, the man looked more like a nineteenth century nobleman than a twenty-first century businessman. Especially since his white hair puffed out at the sides, both in his beard and behind his ears.

Duke Dermail.

Duo sneered as the man entered, the hall light shining into the room and onto the man's back, giving him an almost ominous figure. What utter bullshit. “What the hell are you playing at?” Duo snapped, not letting the man start the conversation. “Trussing me up here in the middle of fucking nowhere – have you got mental issues or something, buddy?”

“Save it, Duo Maxwell. I'm certain you know very well who I am, just as I know very well who _you_ are. You broke into our computers' files in an attempt to stop us. Perhaps you shouldn't have? After all, your friend would still be alive if you'd minded your own business.”

Duo didn't give the man the pleasure of seeing how much those words affected him, instead tilting his head arrogantly. “It's not my fault your security's weak as shit.”

The man snorted in amusement. It wasn't a reaction Duo was used to – usually people got pissed at his attitude, at his words. More often than not fights were started solely on Duo's quick tongue. This time, such didn't seem to be the case. The man was sure of himself and his victory. Duo resisted the urge to pull at the rope. Not now. Not in front of this man. He had to wait.

“It's too bad, really. Someone of your talents shouldn't be wasted like this. But of course, I'm not so foolish as to ask an enemy to join me.”

“Good, 'cause I have no intention of accepting.”

“I see. It truly is a shame.” The man clasped his hands behind his back and stared down at Duo imperiously. “The final game is about to commence,” he said then. “Having captured the enemy's Queen and securing the center of the field, I believe we can safely say that victory is within reach.”

Games? Game metaphors? Jesus. This man was definitely related to Treize. “Only one problem with that,” Duo jeered, his lips pulling up, his eyes alight with fury and confidence. “You didn't capture the Queen, dumbass. I'm more of a Knight, myself.”

* * *

It was Quatre who remembered Mary and Salina, and it was Quatre who noted that Mary was in a back room unconscious, a gun less than a foot from her hand. It was Trowa who told Quatre that Salina was nowhere in sight.

Heero heard the last part and felt his shoulders sag a bit further from the weight. That meant that either Salina had been taken, too, or that she was an enemy, as well.

After that they'd hefted up Duo's computer, Heero carefully memorizing how everything was set up, and headed out, Wufei taking an extra car in Heero's lot and driving off with the two unconscious enemies trussed up in the back. Heero drove away, as well, taking care for Duo's precious computer.

Duo.

He couldn't let himself think about it. About how they'd fallen in their duty to protect their one weak point. At how helpless he felt, not even knowing who had taken him. About how he _knew_ , deep inside, that Duo's safety had to take a backseat to the battle they were all about to face.

His hands were shaking on the wheel.

He shook his head forcefully, just enough to get his thoughts in order. He couldn't let this fear get in the way of his mission. He had to stop Romefeller, no matter what. After he stopped them, he could go on a hunt for that brainless dolt.

But what… if it was too late?

It was harder this time to get his emotions under control. He _couldn't_ let himself think about it, because the images of all the homicide victims he'd seen through the years would change to look like Duo.

No, he most certainly couldn't let himself think like that.

Duo would be fine. He _had_ to be.

When they arrived at Quatre's house, Heero parked behind Wufei's vehicle and watched the man gleefully drag the two prisoners through the asphalt and into the garage. Trowa was already waiting there, a cable stretched in his hands.

Heero ignored them for the computer, which he ever so gently pulled out of the backseat and took through the garage and into the house. Quatre took the load and pointed to the left, where the living room waited. The coffee table had towels over it, apparently to protect it from the computer once it was laid down. Heero nodded in assent, unable to find his voice. He was very afraid of what sounds he might make if he spoke. Something embarrassing, most likely.

Quatre seemed to understand and soundlessly took the machines away.

It took a few trips, more because Heero was afraid of dropping or scratching something than because he couldn't carry more in at once. Quatre seemed to have tried to place things down in order, but Heero fixed the setup. The monitor was in the center, and Quatre had remembered that, but two of the external hard drives were mixed, and the towers needed rearranging. The fans gave Heero the most trouble, but one was a deeper, darker gray than another, while the third had a blue tinge. Heero placed them all in their exact slots.

“I'll plug it all in,” Quatre murmured. Heero only nodded again.

Duo's computer chimed on, and a picture of a chibi grim reaper played across the screen, giggling maniacally. Heero gave a short, shocked chuckle, one that almost ended on something entirely different. Heero closed his mouth rather sharply then.

“Hi-hi!” the little death god shouted, turning to the screen. “We're on lockdown! We're on lockdown! We're on lockdown!”

Heero snarled at the thing and resisted the urge to punch the screen. “Duo, dammit…” What did he have to do to get into the computer?

“Do you think there's something in there?” Quatre murmured, looking at the dancing reaper.

“Duo had been on this. If nothing else, we'll see what he'd been doing before…” But Heero couldn't speak of what might have happened to Duo.

“We'll get him back,” Quatre said firmly.

But alive or dead?

Heero only grunted and focused again on the computer. The reaper was shaking a finger at him. “Need a hint? Need a hint?”

“Yes!” he snapped. The damn thing was as annoying as its owner. Then he typed in, _yes!_ And snapped the enter key.

“One and Two, One and Two, One and Two...” It rattled off then, its mantra changing once more, and Heero actually growled.

“One and two?” Trowa asked, coming in. He stared at the dancing reaper, now twirling around and around, and cocked an eyebrow. “What the hell is that?”

“That,” Wufei muttered, coming in as well, “would most likely be Maxwell's idea of humorous.”

“One and two,” Heero muttered. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, we're going to have to figure it out, if we want a chance in hell of getting any clues about Maxwell's disappearance. I'll take care of our friends.” Wufei flicked his head back toward the garage.

“I'll go with you,” Quatre murmured lowly, sending Trowa a quick look. The taller man nodded and watched Quatre until he was out of sight.

“One and two,” Heero muttered, echoing the dancing reaper. Duo. What the hell was Duo trying to tell him?

Duo, dammit!

And then he paused, his brows furrowing. Duo. Duo. “Duo is a Latin word, isn't it?” he whispered.

Trowa crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, cocking his head. “Unus, duo, tres, quattuor, quinque.”

“Duo. Two.”

“But would it be that easy?” he asked, obviously rhetorical.

“You mean would the answer be that first one – unus?” Heero shook his head and sat back in the chair he'd immediately taken over. Trowa watched him from beside the sofa. “No. No chance.”

“There's another use of Duo – musical.”

“Solo.” Heero thought about it. He'd heard the word somewhere before. “Didn't we go over a list of orphans during our investigation?”

“Yes. To attempt to find anything on Duo Maxwell.”

It felt like forever ago – back when they'd been searching for links to G.O.S.H. Back before they'd found their system to be too corrupt to be acceptable. Back before he'd known that Duo was Shinigami, before he'd even known who Duo Maxwell was. It seemed like another lifetime altogether – not because the memories were faded with time, but because he couldn't imagine not feeling the clenching need for Duo that he'd felt for days now.

“Hadn't there been names they'd gone by?”

“Cat, Tiny?” Trowa nodded. “They hadn't had real names, not most of them.”

“And there was one named Solo.”

Trowa nodded. “And Dodger. He was Solo's second in command.”

“The one who survived the church's destruction. Duo.”

Heero plugged in Solo and watched as the reaper twirled. “You're right! Lucky you!” And then the reaper leaned in, shaking its finger again. “Don't go around messing with my baby, now!”

The start-up sound finally trilled, and Heero was in.

* * *

It was rather difficult, Duo mused, to grab the lockpicks hidden in his hair when his hands were stuck at the small of his back.

He'd never been the most flexible human being on the planet, though he'd never been completely useless in the area, either. One had to be willing to squirm into interesting areas and not get caught when one was running for one's life.

Still, it took him far too damn long to get his braid into a position where he could snatch a lockpick with his teeth.

Then he had the entertaining process of once again sitting up against the bars, and then he had to travel a good length to find the cage's door. Here, of course, came the next tricky part.

Opening the lock wouldn't be too impossible – he had the lockpick, and he could easily move his head around. But how to make sure he wouldn't drop the thing? He needed to be careful, because he doubted he'd be able to get another chance before that bastard came back. It just plain took too damn long.

He needed to work fast. He'd seen, on Dermail's exit, the use of a security card to get through from this side. He could unlock all the damn locks on that door, but he wouldn't be able to get that stupid door open. He needed Dermail's return for that.

And when the opportunity arose, he needed to be ready.

Duo leaned down when he found the door, searching for the locking mechanism with his shoulder. One area was thicker than the rest, bulkier. There. With an effort and a tiny scratching sound as the lockpick scraped over the metal, he got the lockpick in the hole.

He had to look like an idiot, digging his mouth near the lock like a bird searching for worms. But he felt for the tumblers, the lockpick shivering in his teeth as he met with resistance. If he could have, he would have grinned ferally. Expertly he twisted his head and guided the lockpick through the barrier.

And with a final click, the door swung slightly open.

Yes!

Now, though, he needed to wait for someone to enter, either Dermail again or perhaps a flunky. Anyone would do – he just desperately needed a card.

Until then, he needed these damn bonds off, and after that, a weapon.

He'd gotten only a small look around when Dermail had entered earlier, but he'd seen irregular shadows, meaning that something was in the room. Hopefully he'd find something sharp.

There was no better way to move but to imitate an inchworm, his butt in the air. He went to his left first, where he'd seen the most shadows. His head knocked heavily against something – like a giant block – and his mind flashed the word 'pedestal' before a resounding crash slammed throughout the room.

Oh, fuck.

Duo ignored the blood that dripped from his left arm and struggled to snatch a shard of the broken whatever that had fallen. His fingers cut and bled on the edges, but he didn't have time for finesse.

Undoubtedly, someone had heard.

Well, that was one way to get someone in here.

Duo managed to loosen the rope and just pulled for all he was worth. He heard the pins and chambers of the locks on the door and wrenched his bindings with the last of his strength. The rope finally, blessedly snapped. He pushed himself around and snatched at a shard of the curved object – a vase? A bowl? – just as the door slid open, peeling in a sharp sliver of light. He tore at the bindings at his ankles as the guard shouted a warning of his escape to the hall.

Duo barely had time to register the item he'd broken as a rather ornate antique lamp before the guard shot at him.

* * *

“Careful! Careful!”

The fucking reaper was back, shaking its finger and smirking. Heero glared at the thing.

Quatre walked in from the garage then, his eyes taking in the computer and Heero's rather furious expression before turning to Trowa. “They've woken up,” Quatre murmured quietly. “Wufei's with them right now.”

“You should stay with him.” Trowa's eyes turned to Heero, who was engrossed with Duo's computer. “You can tell him things he might not know.”

Quatre nodded, then turned fully toward Heero again. “How's it going?”

“Another wall,” Trowa answered.

Quatre might have made another response, but Heero wasn't paying attention. The only thing he really noticed was the sound of the blond's exit.

“Careful!” the reaper bleated again. “Click the wrong folder and everything goes bye-bye!” And then the little thing waved jauntily and disappeared once more.

“Did he have to encrypt the thing ten ways to Sunday?” Heero snapped, his eyes glancing over the folders. Magic, Force, Death… his eyes locked on Curse and he hissed in triumph. Without hesitation, he clicked on that folder.

“Password please!” the computer piped, and though the reaper didn't show, Heero tensed in preparation for it. Duo had a bad sense of humor. Especially when it came to his machine. A hint box opened up, waiting for him to press okay and struggle to guess the right password. The hint said only, _my answer._

The hint was most certainly meant for him.

Heero's hands froze over the keyboard. He remembered, very well, telling Duo that he expected an answer upon his return. An answer to his question of whether Duo loved him or not. He'd asked for the truth.

If he was wrong, whatever message Duo had left for him would be lost. Worse, it would show that he and Duo weren't on the same wavelength, which for some reason seemed unnecessarily abhorrent to him. But what should he answer? What he wanted to be Duo's response, or what he thought Duo's response would be?

But if Duo were to be honest, as Heero had asked him to be… Heero very much wanted Duo's answer to be yes. He wanted Duo to look him in the eye and open his mouth and say yes.

_Yes, Heero. I love you._

Heero clicked okay and typed it in, his mind flickering on punctuation, capitalization, and ending up taking the default route – no punctuation, no capitalization. As easy as possible – as plain as possible.

Then the folder opened, and Heero's breath choked on a sob.

He hadn't known the pain he would feel, having the words given to him, having that be the right answer. How could he have guessed the agony that would strip off his skin? Even in the last moments, Duo had given him his answer. Duo had confessed that he loved him.

Oh, God. The pain was too great. Not now, when he couldn't be sure where Duo was or... or even if he was alive anymore.

If he'd known the admission would make him hurt like this, he'd have rather never asked at all.

His eyes blearily scanned over the folder's contents, and despite himself he gasped. Trowa moved forward, his eyes looking over the multiple browsers that kept popping up, one after another. Blueprints, skins, documents, web pages, scripts. Heero hardly saw it all, the masses of information crowding the computer screen, ruining a chance of flipping through by taskbar alone.

And the last thing to pop up was a live satellite feed of Romefeller's corporate building, standing like a beacon. The sun was starting to set on the Western side, making the glass windows blink in colors of orange and gold. The parking lot sat on the East and North, the entrance at the South. Heero could faintly see security guards dispatched along the front, one bored enough to leave his weapon to the side. Trowa leaned over and idly clicked an arrow button – down – and Heero jumped faintly when the feed zoomed in.

“He left us everything we need,” Trowa breathed.

Something cruel and tight twisted around Heero's lungs, hard enough to make his breathing stutter. Duo. This couldn't be happening.

Duo couldn't leave things like this – he couldn't have left everything for them – unless he'd feared not being able to do it himself.

Please, please, please let him be all right.

Quatre burst into the room then, just as Heero felt the cruel something snaking across his veins to his heart, and ignored the slamming of the door upon his entrance.

“We've got it,” he gasped. “We've got it – we know where Duo is.”

“Where?” Heero choked, standing to face Quatre's wide gaze.

“We're right to go after Romefeller. It's them. They have him.”


	27. Easier to Run

They were coming into the room.

Duo could hear their steps, soft and careful, but he could hear them. They weren't bothering to fire anymore, since he'd taken refuge behind something surprisingly strong. The lamp must've weighed a ton. Which would make no sense, since Duo had only bumped into the damn thing.

His chances of surviving were slim at best. These bastards had guns and buddies; he was alone with a shard of… a broken shard of some old thing that might possibly have ancient diseases on it or something.

Ew.

He seriously didn't want to think about what kind of old bacteria could be infesting his arm right now.

He didn't have any more time. He could hear the footsteps starting to part, one going to one side, one to the other. He had to be quick, fast. He had to be lucky. He grabbed a couple other pieces and stuffed them into his hair, just in case.

Well, Shinigami was never the one to die – only those around him. Duo grinned ferally and slid from his hiding place. His eyes barely made out the man standing before him and the gun aimed straight at his chest, and then Duo stared right at the man's neck and threw the shard for all he was worth.

* * *

They couldn't get ready fast enough. Wufei took care of their hostages – meaning he'd knocked their heads together. There was something off about Wufei, something distorted. He had stood before those two unconscious bastards and had clenched his fists. Quatre had needed to give the man some serious space; his emotions must have been out of control.

But other than that short lapse, each of them had found themselves strapping on Kevlar vests Quatre had somehow procured and hitching their guns to their waists. Clips of ammo were shoved in several different pockets, and then Heero and Trowa rattled off information on the building – the guards' locations, the ducts, the garbage dump, the number of floors, the layout. Duo had left them so much information, they knew they could study it all for hours and not get everything. But the pertinent details – Romefeller's goals and the several pieces of evidence on their illegal activities – was sent straight through to the military leaders and to the leader of the nation. No more middle men, no more dubious higher-ups.

And then they were ready to go.

No one asked if they should stay to see the guards' rotations. No one was stupid enough.

Heero was calmer now. He knew where Duo was and who had him. Though he knew damn well he should have been entering this building to take down these bastards, his primary goal was Duo.

He had to get Duo back.

“Everyone ready?” Quatre asked, scanning the room. He nodded before anyone could answer. “All right, then. Let's get going.”

Heero was the first out the door, not waiting for anyone else. Without speaking, Wufei joined him in his car, while Trowa and Quatre left in theirs. If they were stopped on the way – if something happened to one group – the other group could continue on. Heero slipped into the driver's seat with his heart hammering, punching in adrenaline. With a flick of the wrist, he started the car.

Wufei was equally silent, and both of them entered that almost Zen state of preparedness, when the mind blanks and the body become the only thing one listens to. The mind will hesitate. The body won't.

Heero only knew where he was going because he knew where he had to be eventually. His eyes scanned the streets, the cars around him, the faces of those he could make out. Buildings, alleyways. Yet he couldn't focus on them. They weren't dangers; they weren't important. His mind kept flashing, over and over again, to the memory of Duo's face. Of Duo's fear that flickered whenever his curse was mentioned. Duo's determined, absorbed gaze as he read his computer screens. Over and over and over again – his smile. His smile. His smile.

He would _kill_ anyone who hurt Duo.

“You're speeding, Yuy.”

“By five miles.” But Heero slowed down.

Wufei was quiet again, but a different kind of intent filled the air, and Heero knew Wufei was about to speak again. He waited for it.

“Treize… told me.”

“What?” Heero glanced over, but the feeling had shifted again, this time to a determined silence.

“Nothing. I will handle it, Yuy.”

Handle it?

Heero's grip on the wheel tightened. Handle it. There were other problems, after all. More than just Duo. He had to remember Treize's deception, Feller's deception, and the death of Lowe. Everything in his life had been leading to this point. Every disaster and struggle he'd faced – and yet the only thing he could care about was Duo.

He couldn't think about the past or the future when Duo's life was in jeopardy.

They finally arrived at their destination, three full blocks from Romefeller's headquarters. Heero turned off the car and stepped out, Wufei doing the same. They wouldn't be waiting for Trowa and Quatre, just as the two wouldn't be waiting for them. Their job was simply to do all they could by themselves.

The first order of business was arrival, and they slid around the locked-up buildings of neighboring companies until they were beside the Romefeller Foundation. This building was going to be hell to enter; Duo's information had told them that even if they did get inside without being spotted, the place's first few floors were a maze of cubicles and strange hallways. The bathroom was in an odd nook in the back of the building, and if one passed through the break rooms that shot off of one another in random directions, one could potentially find the flight of stairs that led up.

Somewhere in that maze, Duo was trapped.

Wufei was the one to lead this time, and Heero took his rear. The posts weren't making any rounds, and were instead sitting in front of every entryway. Duo and his hacking abilities had found them other entrances. Quatre would be going in through the ducts while next to them, Trowa would climb up the trash dump – hopefully, with it being so late, nothing untoward would crash down upon him. Heero and Wufei, on the other hand, were breaking in through one of the windows on the second floor. According to Duo's information, the first floor was rigged to hell, but the second one was more lenient. The floor wasn't heat sensored and the windows weren't hooked to alarms.

Also according to the blueprints Duo had gotten, there was a small ledge about seven feet from the ground, no thicker than a couple of inches, more for aesthetic taste than for any usefulness. But it came in handy now; Heero hoisted Wufei up and then, when Wufei was situated, pulled himself up as well, with Wufei wrenching him up at the end. Then they scooted up to one of the windows and proceeded to struggle on the edge of the ledge to get the window unlocked.

It took them about ten minutes of unsteady rocking and annoyed glares, but they finally got in.

* * *

They both went down, but the guard didn't get back up.

Duo rolled as the man's partner shot at him, and odd little red blotches trailed his movements. He cradled his left shoulder as he stood, once more behind the pedestal. He didn't have time to wait, though; the partner would be calling for assistance now, and Duo couldn't have any of that. He swung around the pedestal, catching the man by surprise, his hand on his walkie-talkie. Duo wasn't dumb enough to go straight for the man. As the enemy's gun hand lifted, Duo ducked down and grabbed the dead guard's weapon.

The gunshot startled Duo despite everything, and though he didn't feel any pain, his hand missed the gun. He reached for it again as he dodged, finally snagging it with his bad arm. His shoulder screamed.

Another gunshot rang out. Duo rolled, placing pressure on his bad arm, and landed on his side. With a cry of pain, he raised his bad arm and shot, once, twice, three times. The guard's gun hand flung back, and his gun pounded into the floor. The next two shots took the man down.

His heart thundering in his chest, Duo moved and grabbed the other gun, as well, then the man's walkie-talkie, and then he ran out of there as fast as he could go.

Duo's mission changed as soon as he was down the hall, and he hustled over to a nearby room. He didn't have anything to open the door with finesse, but three hard body slams got the thing open. Duo stumbled inside and looked around. He needed something, anything mechanical. He had, first and foremost, to make sure that Heero and the others were able to take care of these bastards.

He wouldn't let his capturers gloat for long.

There was no computer in the room, but there _was_ a room connecting, and when Duo went through that side door, he found a desk with a computer to the side. He looked around as he moved forward. No one was inside, but that would quickly change. As soon as the walkie-talkie he carried crackled to life and the guard didn't respond, they'd know he'd managed to escape. He only had a small amount of time.

“Dammit, Wallace,” the walkie-talkie spoke, and Duo jumped. Son of a bitch. “Are you done yet or not?”

Duo hoped Wallace wasn't the one he'd taken down with the shard, because that guy was most certainly 'done.' “Yeah, I'm done,” Duo said, and tried to keep his voice garbled.

“The hell?”

Why the fuck did a goddamn friend have to be the one to talk to him? “He fought back.”

“Pain in the ass, keeping that fucker alive. He – wait, what–”

And then silence reigned once again.

Duo's heart tripped for a second, and then he took a stupid chance. “Hey! Um, is that Heero or something?”

A short, quick silence hit the air, then, “Maxwell?”

“Wufei!” It was such a relief to hear his voice, and Duo almost collapsed against the desk. He looked over to the computer and felt another quick jump. “Wufei, I'm getting onto a computer up here.”

“Where are you? Are you all right?”

Duo considered his bleeding shoulder and decided to stop long enough to take care of it. “I got out, but I don't know how long I have until I'm fucked. I take it the others are here, too?”

“Yes. You didn't answer the question.”

“I rebel against authority.” Duo ripped his shirt and did his best to wrap the cloth around his shoulder. It was awkward, painful, and didn't work too well. Still, he finished and managed to tie it off. Wufei was oddly silent for it. Maybe he could hear Duo's panting. “I'm gonna get on-line, but they'll definitely find me eventually. Where are you?”

“Second floor,” he said, and there was definitely a note of urgency in his voice. “I'm in contact with the others, and they want to know what's going on. I'm telling them, okay?”

“Uh-huh. Just keep your walkie on. I'll send you guys information.”

“Maxwell, how bad is the injury?”

Well, it wouldn't be hard to guess he had one, since he'd refused to answer. “I'll live.” Hopefully. He sat down and booted up the machine, and he watched it flare the Romefeller logo. How corny – a wake-up sound and a swinging R. Snore. “They kept me up high, I think. Second floor won't cut it.”

“Heero and I are cleaning the floors. Trowa and Quatre should be higher than us.”

“'kay.”

Shit, the room was starting to blur. Duo squeezed his eyes shut.

“Well, I see they underestimated you.”

Duo jumped up. Treize walked into the room, a gun pointed at Duo's chest. “Put the walkie-talkie down, please.”

Wufei must've heard Treize's arrival, because he hissed the man's name.

Duo did as told, but he left the sound on. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You seem to be very sly, Duo Maxwell. I don't think we've given you enough credit.”

Duo was trapped between the desk and the wall. And even if he wasn't, he was fairly certain bullets were faster than him. “What the fuck game are you playing now, huh? You want to break the law to take down Romefeller, and now you're _with_ them?”

“You talk a bit too much.”

Treize pulled the trigger before Duo could retort.

* * *

The crackle of the walkie-talkie in Wufei's hand was like the rattle of a snake. Wufei looked down at the device in horror.

“Duo?! Duo!”

“Wufei?”

The communication device on his ear sounded then, and Wufei wanted to scream. Heero and the others had been able to hear him, but they'd voiced their problems with not being able to understand Duo through the static. Now he had to be the one to say...

“Wufei, what happened?”

“Yuy, Winner…” He felt something painful in his chest and couldn't dislodge it. “Maxwell, he…”

“Was that a gunshot I heard?” Heero asked, and Wufei could hear something tight in the man's tone.

“I… yes. Treize showed up, and now–”

“Khushrenada? Duo is alone with him?”

“He managed to escape, and he said he was going to send along information. Treize must have found him.” Wufei hurried out of the room he'd cleared, mindlessly sticking the walkie-talkie in his pocket, though he knew it was useless to hold on to it now. He didn't know what had happened, not for sure, but he knew Duo was once more out of contact. Out of reach.

“That's bad,” Trowa said, his first words on the subject. “Duo was the one to prove Treize's initial deception. Treize can't be pleased with him.”

That did not help to calm Wufei's racing heart. “We need to get to him.”

“If it's not too late,” Trowa said.

“It can't be.”

Heero's words made them all quiet. It was said firmly, as if it were fact, but it was such a desperate phrase.

Heero was right. Duo _couldn't_ be dead. The fear mounting in Wufei's body attested to it. He wouldn't _let_ Duo be dead. He wouldn't. He wouldn't, he wouldn't, he…

* * *

Heero was merciless on the next few men he snuck up on, and when he moved on, he kicked one out of his way just for spite. He was close to the third floor despite the winding passageways. And he knew he wasn't alone; Wufei had upped his game, as well, and both were practically running for the top levels.

Wufei had said Duo was up there.

He hadn't been able to hear much – Wufei's surprised proclamation of Duo's name, and then Wufei's side of the conversation. He'd heard static, a voice he wouldn't have recognized if Wufei hadn't labeled it. It had been painful, the release, the feeling that came from knowing Duo was safe.

Having that fear return so quickly was enough to kill him.

With another room cleared, Heero double-checked the area. “Clear on my end,” he said. “I'm heading up.”

“Same,” Wufei responded. Heero said nothing, only ran to the staircase and raced up. Wufei would be taking a window again.

If they were too late… no.

Heero couldn't imagine that scenario. Not if he wanted to keep moving.

* * *

Duo looked down at the walkie-talkie, at the little pieces that had once been a usable fucking machine before this jackass had come along.

Then he looked at the computer and wondered if the bastard was going to shoot it, too.

“Duo Maxwell.”

Treize came closer, still holding that gun of his out, and stopped right in front of the desk. “Do you understand your importance right now?”

He had a feeling anything he said would be incorrect. “Doesn't matter. I'm doing what _I_ want to do.”

Treize smiled at that. It wasn't a safe smile. “Yes, that does seem to be a habit of yours. Doing what you want, I mean.” Treize touched the computer as he came around the desk. Duo backed away, leaving the computer exposed. Treize trailed his left hand on the monitor. “But you see, your usefulness is in your connections to those two.”

Those two? Treize must have been talking about Wufei ad Heero. “Bullshit, buddy. I've been useful _way_ before I met them. Or are you forgetting who I am?” Duo lifted his chin. Treize had yet to let his guard down, but if he did, Duo would be on his shit before he could blink.

“Oh, no, I haven't forgotten. But you don't understand how those two think.”

Duo didn't want to hear that. Not from someone like him. “It's true I haven't been around Heero long, but I do understand him. And Wufei and I are friends. I know damn well you're using their worry for me as leverage to get them in here.”

“Not just that.” Treize sat in front of the computer and calmly shut the thing down. Duo bristled. “Those two will do whatever they must to save you. Even kill.”

Duo was on the opposite side now, open to the exit. If he could just distract Khushrenada, or maybe get out one of the guns he'd procured…

“There he is! Halt, or we'll shoot!”

Duo ducked on instinct, below the desk, away from Khushrenada, and turned. A group of men stood by the entrance, all of them pointing their own guns at him. There was nothing blocking him from them, and trying to go over the desk would mean facing Treize. _Fuck_.

“You will come back with us, Duo Maxwell,” Treize said calmly, “and you will help us stop the intruders.”

“The _hell_ I will.” But Duo had nowhere to go. He was trapped. He looked around, but the office had only file cabinets and windows, and the windows were too far away for him to reach.

One of the men came forward and pocketed his gun. “Revolt and they'll shoot you,” the man said, his words muffled by a horrendously large mustache. Duo fought anyway as the man grabbed his wrists. He kneed the man in the nuts and rolled, ripping his arms free. His shoulder spiked in pain under his weight.

He had a gun in hand as he stopped, but a cold press against his temple warned him.

“Hold still, now, Duo Maxwell.”

Treize.

Duo glared at him, but this time he remained still while his gun was taken from him, then as mustache-man searched him, quickly finding the other gun and taking that, as well. Duo snarled at them.

“Stand,” Treize ordered, and he did, the bastard's gun still pressed to his head. “My uncle's not too pleased with your actions. I believe he would very much like to speak with you.”

Duo jerked away instinctively when his wrists were once again grabbed, but Treize grabbed the nape of his braid with his left hand, and Duo stilled, afraid of losing his last weapons. Handcuffs were slapped over his wrists, and a chain was linked to them. Duo didn't have to wonder what it was for; the mustache-man tugged on it and Duo fell forward. Treize's gun left his head, but Duo knew it was still trained on him, just as the others' still were.

Duo dug his heels in, but the chain-leash was tugged again and Duo stumbled, just barely catching his balance again.

Without another word, Duo was led out of the room.


	28. Bleed It Out

Duo stumbled again as he was dragged into a room far down the hall from his initial imprisonment. This room was big, open, with floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides. The door opened to a desk on the opposite end, and on either side of both the entrance and the desk were guards, big, hulking guys whose physical appearance was probably supposed to scare away potential baddies before they ever did anything.

Duo's arms and back burned, and he was happy he'd stopped long enough to bandage his shoulder, or else he'd be bleeding out right about then. As it was, his tasered back was thrumming even through the adrenaline rush, and his injured arm and shoulder hurt like hell.

“Ah. Duo Maxwell.”

And sitting behind the ginormous desk was Duke Dermail. Duo didn't say anything as he was pushed forward, forced into close proximity with the man. He noticed that Treize was doing the most of the pushing and turned to glare at the man. He simply pushed Duo forward again.

Duo stumbled, more from surprise than because he'd been pushed too hard. He tried to control the widening of his eyes even as his heart raced.

Treize's finger was bleeding.

“It's very unfortunate that you attempted to escape.” Dermail rose and placed his hands behind his back. Duo could hardly focus on the man, waiting for Treize to speak up, to tell the room that Duo had weapons in his hair. “Good thing you tried to help your dear friends. You might have gotten away otherwise.”

Duo snarled. “I still plan to.”

“I know.” The man walked around his desk and stood before Duo. “As I've said before, I have no reason to have you work with me. But I do have every reason to get information from you. You're quite the hacker, and apparently quite the escapee, as well.”

Information? Bad. This was bad. That meant torture.

“You're crazy,” Duo hissed. “That's beyond even what you've done here so far.”

“Isn't it?” But the bastard only chuckled. “I never thought I would have to go to such an extreme, myself.” He waved his hand, and Treize grabbed Duo's leash and turned him around. Duo was left looking right into Treize's eyes. He looked stoically back.

“Take him away. You choose the room, Treize. Just make certain he can't escape again.” And Dermail moved to sift through a few papers on his desk. “I'll go to meet you there shortly.”

“Of course, Uncle.” Treize bowed slightly and pulled Duo toward the exit.

Why? Why wasn't Treize saying anything? Duo looked at Treize, trying to see the man's face as he was led out of the monstrously large room and tugged past the main hall and down a side corridor. Treize kept his gaze averted. Duo looked around. No one else had joined them; apparently Treize was trusted to take care of him if he got too rowdy.

Because they thought he had no weapons.

“What the hell are you doing?” Duo hissed, even as he was stopped in front of a door in a much thinner hallway. The door was as white as the walls, making the doorknob, bright and copper-toned, stand out. Treize unlocked this door and pulled him inside.

“Would you prefer me to tell them?”

So he _did_ know. Then what…? “Then let me go!”

“No. I must say, I'm not thrilled with the idea of what is about to take place. But...” Treize dragged his unwilling form to the back of the room. It was another weird room – Duo saw what looked to be a stone statue of a lion, definitely Chinese, right next to some weird rug rolled up like the one from _Aladdin_. The rug rested against some bowl and what looked to be a glass chest with what resembled a necklace. Treize shoved something like a big urn out of the way and revealed a peg on the floor that had held the thing up. It clattered to the floor when Treize let it go. Duo struggled with renewed force. “You brought this on yourself, Duo Maxwell.”

“The hell I did! You fucking sent those bastards to me!” Duo tried to kick the man, but Treize chose that instant to pull his chain down. Duo fell to his knees.

“You could have waited patiently in your cage.” Treize wrenched up the peg with one hand and pulled Duo's chains forward. Duo jerked backwards, unsettling the chains and ruining Treize's efforts.

“I have no intention of waiting like a lost princess!” Duo placed one foot on Treize's knee and used his other to kick at the man's face. Treize solved the problem simply by standing up. Duo's balance crumbled as the chain was lifted, and his kick ended up stopping short in order to hold him up.

“You will have to wait for them,” Treize said. “I won't have you ruining this.”

“Ruining it?! You mother–” But Duo had to quit talking and try to duck Treize's kick; his limited mobility made his efforts futile. Treize quickly had his feet out from under him and had bodily slammed him to the floor, Treize's weight on top of him stealing his breath. As he shook and curled into his stomach, struggling for breath, Treize pulled his hands up and slammed the peg back into the ground. When Duo finally got his breath back and tried to move, his arms stopped far short of their intended goal. Duo looked up at his bound chain and snarled.

“We must make sure you don't get out again,” Treize said, and he turned Duo forcefully onto his stomach. When his hands touched Duo's hair, the boy writhed. Treize solved the problem by sitting on him.

“Bastard,” Duo gasped, “Don't touch – get off…!”

But Treize ignored him, carefully searching each individual fold. Several pins were pulled out, two lockpicks, and a thin, tiny flash drive. “Hm.” Treize looked at it, turning it over. “Should I search this, what do you suppose I would find?”

Considering it held several pieces of the investigation against Caribol and had, most importantly, information on Heero, Wufei, Trowa, and Quatre, Duo didn't want to imagine what leverage it could give Romefeller. “Give that back!” he screamed, and his useless struggles reached a new level. “Don't fucking touch that!”

“I see. Something important, then. Very well.” And Treize returned it to its hiding place. “That and your little toys can stay, but I'm afraid anything that might assist your repeated escape would only hinder the plan.” Treize gathered up all of the hairpins and the lockpicks and stood. Duo immediately tried to sit up, but the short length of the chain forced him into an uncomfortably hunched position. “Just wait for them.”

“Jackass!” Duo called as Treize started to leave. “They'll fucking torture me in here! Just waiting would be stupid!”

Treize stopped and smiled back to him. “Yet you have no choice but to do so now, don't you?” At Duo's helpless growl, he turned away. “You should have waited in that cage, Duo Maxwell. I cannot help you from now on.”

“Help me? How the hell have you helped me?!” But the bastard had already closed the door behind his exit. Duo was alone.

He turned to his little instrument of capture and tugged experimentally. The peg didn't budge. What the hell magic ability had Treize possessed to get it to move?

Duo bit his lip and glanced at the door. How much time did he have? How long before Dermail and his posse arrived?

He _had_ to get free. If not for the others, then this time, most definitely for himself.

* * *

Treize.

Wufei's mind just kept snapping back to Treize, to the man's actions, to... the third floor was pretty cleared before he'd even entered, and when he reached the fourth floor, he found a group of people waiting for him. He had to hide in the bathroom and jump out the window to the fifth floor.

“They're waiting for us,” he said over through his communication device.

“Good.”

Heero's answer didn't sound too good, and Wufei heard shouts from below him as he crashed through the glass of the window above him, covering his face to protect from the shards. He used the butt of his gun again, breaking the shards from the bottom. The shouts, though, weren't of discovery, but of pain and fear. Wufei looked towards the bathroom door and listened as people shouted to one another. Another quick gunshot sounded. The shouting increased. It sounded as if the gunshots were getting closer.

“Yuy? That you coming to the fourth floor bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

Wufei waited, holding onto the edge, gun pointed toward the door in case whoever came through wasn't Heero.

“I'm in the sixth floor ducts,” Quatre said, then, “The fifteenth floor is probably where Duo is. I'm going to continue heading up.”

“Be careful,” Trowa said, and Wufei echoed the sentiments.

“Where are you, Barton?”

“Hell if I know. There's been plenty of opportunities to go out, but as long as I have a path leading up, I'll take it.”

“Wait.” Wufei blinked, caught away from the sounds of battle outside his safety zone, and listened carefully. Through the shouting and gunshots, though, he couldn't hear anything from Trowa's link other than the man's voice. “It's supposed to go straight up after the first couple of floors. How could you still be in there?”

“I have a few skills I brought into the force,” Trowa said lightly.

Wufei imagined Trowa hopping his way up the ninety degree incline ad shook his head. “If you feel even the slightest bit tired, find another route. You may wait for us to catch up.”

“I'm fine,” Trowa repeated, but Wufei could hear the strain in his voice.

“We need you, Barton. Don't forget that.”

Trowa chuckled. “I won't. I'll take a horizontal when necessary and wait for you to get me before exiting.”

“Good.”

They all stopped talking then on an unspoken consensus. Heero banged open the bathroom door a short minute later and nodded to Wufei to continue up.

The fifth floor was easier, and Wufei handed Heero a magazine clip, seeing as he'd used up several bullets on the fourth level. Once they finished cleaning out the enemies on the fifth floor, they were moving up again.

It was all rather blurry. Wufei had entered that battle high where the only thing that mattered was the completion of the operation. Any enemy that entered his line of vision was taken down before he could fully comprehend his own actions. He reloaded his clip before he realized he'd used his last bullet. And when they reached the sixth floor and found all the people already downed, they didn't look for Quatre, who was most likely the culprit, but instead simply headed for floor number seven.

Duo was on the fifteenth floor. Their mission was, first and foremost, to get to the fifteenth floor. Taking out Romefeller was simply an added bonus.

Treize.

The man's face nipped into Wufei's mind again, just as he was about to enter the seventh floor. He couldn't believe the man had attacked Duo – again. Couldn't believe that Treize, the man he'd slept with, the man who, if he was dead honest with himself, he loved, would potentially shoot Duo – kill Duo.

He wouldn't. Treize wouldn't. He wouldn't.

Would he?

Wufei gritted his teeth. No. He'd already been show just what that man was capable of. Using Duo. Threatening Duo. Capturing Duo. Joining Romefeller!

He clutched his chest for only an instant before slipping onto the seventh floor. That man had changed from the man Wufei had once known. There was nothing else he could do now to save him except to stop his actions now. For the man he'd once been.

And for Wufei himself, so that when he closed his eyes he wouldn't see the man he loved looking so hideously evil.

* * *

Duo.

Quatre sighed with relief, then called out over the comm. links. “Duo's alive.”

Three very startled voices immediately reached his ears, and Quatre spoke quickly to stop any verbal barrage headed his way. “I simply know,” he said, answering Heero's half-formed question. “He's alive. I feel fear, worry, and discomfort, but I can feel him now. He's definitely above us, still quite a ways. But he's alive.”

“Winner, just what has you saying this?”

Wufei's voice was tight. Quatre could tell Wufei wanted to believe what he was saying – which was exactly why he was questioning it. “It's the truth. I can feel people's emotions, and since Duo is a friend…” Quatre looked around; he'd spared no one on the eighth floor. “Guys, the seventh and eighth floors are clear. Can you come meet up with me? I'm running out of ammo on my automatics.”

“Copy that. We'll be there in five.”

Quatre nodded to himself. Heero would make it; knowing Duo was safe would be all the incentive he would need to move faster.

Quatre sighed. He also felt Treize's presence, though it was masked so thoroughly as to be difficult to follow. Treize, as a former boss' boss, was someone Quatre was in the habit of feeling. But what about Wufei? It was apparent that the two had some sort of relationship. What was going to happen to Wufei because of all of this?

“Everyone, I'm disembarking. I believe I'm at least halfway up the building, but it's getting too small for me to continue. I'm going to exit.”

“Wait, Trowa! Don't go alone!” Quatre moved as if to enter the stairway beside him. Instead, Heero and Wufei opened the door and came to him. Wufei wordlessly handed Quatre two more clips, and the three were heading up.

“The more time we waste taking care of this garbage, the closer we are to losing Duo Maxwell.”

Noe of them could argue that. Heero took point up the stairs, and Wufei took the rear. When they got to the ninth floor, however, there were only a few men. They ducked into a side office and picked off the enemies hiding on the building.

“They're buying time,” Wufei snarled.

“Trowa, do you think you can get through to Duo?” Heero asked, watching from the corner of the desk as their enemies cowered behind walls.

“Yes.”

“Then do it. It looks like they've chosen to distract us from something.”

Quatre gasped then and clutched at his chest. His gun fell from his hand to the floor.

“Winner!” Wufei shot from the side cabinet he'd hidden behind and ran over to Heero and Quatre, the latter still curled into himself. “Winner, are you hit?”

“No,” he managed, then, “Duo–”

Heero covered them as they sat, but his eyes narrowed at Duo's name. Wufei took Quatre's shoulders. “Maxwell? Maxwell's hurt?”

“He… they've done something…” Quatre gasped again. “They're hitting him with something…”

“Trowa, get to Duo _now_!” Heero shouted suddenly, and like before in the police station, Heero ran out from behind his cover and charged his attackers. On a startled cry, Wufei shot cover fire. Quatre managed to uncurl himself enough to do the same.

* * *

Duo turned his head to the side and spit. He was happy to note that none of his teeth had fallen victim, but saw the spit tinged pink and scowled. Great. That was gonna hurt like a mother.

“I suggest you simply tell us.”

Duo glared up, unable to properly face Dermail and his lackeys with his back bent and his hands outstretched. They'd already tried the tactic of stepping on his fingers, which hadn't been too bad. But then they realized that they were wearing belts – why the hell had belts ever even been invented? – and the bastards had undone the things and gone to work. The buckle had managed to scrape off some serious skin from his cheek. It throbbed with his bad arms.

He didn't really mind them hitting him in the face, honestly – he just didn't want them discovering his wounds. _That_ would hurt like hell.

“I'm not tellin' you dick,” Duo said, and he smiled ferally. “Why you wanna know so much about the others? They beatin' ya? But I thought you said your victory was at hand-”

They shut him up with a hard thwack against his other cheek. Duo's body lurched, but he was kept from falling by the chain. For once, the fucking thing was useful.

Duo felt around and spit again, this time almost certain a tooth would join the blood, but he was lucky once again. Duo was never lucky. This was gonna culminate in some sort've suck. But as long as he thought about living on the streets, as long as he remembered the pain and suffering he'd endured as a child, he would be all right. He'd suffered way more pain than these morons could even imagine, let alone duplicate.

“You know how they've gotten this far, don't you? What the hell is going on with them? How have they gotten this far without you?”

“Well, yeah, I admit my stunning personality would make it difficult for people to continue on without me...” Duo took the next hit with aplomb, having already situated himself so that he wouldn't be thrown around by the hit. His cheeks bled rather freely now.

“Turn him around and take his shirt off,” Dermail ordered.

Well, fuck. And here was where his luck ran out. The two men with Dermail turned Duo around simply by kicking him in the stomach until he was down and pushing him onto his stomach with their feet. The only way to get his shirt off was was to rip it, and when they did, Dermail laughed. “Well, well, well.”

Oh, please, Duo thought as he wheezed, please don't say anything more clichéd.

“What have we here?” the man continued, and Duo couldn't take it. He burst into laughter. Painful laughter, but laughter nonetheless. “What's so funny?”

“Dude, you're like every stereotypical villain ever created,” Duo said, and clutching his stomach, laughed some more. “Say something original, would ya? I'm havin' a hard time getting' scared here.”

“Oh? Let me help you with that.”

And though it was another clichéd statement, Duo's laughter was cut off rather abruptly when the belt buckle hit his wounded shoulder. He didn't scream, but he did jerk and gasp. Worse, he felt the wound begin bleeding again.

He shut his eyes tight. Treize was a _bastard_.

* * *

“How's Duo?” Heero asked, not for the first time, as they chased the few men on the tenth floor. Each floor was the same. A few men and a few hiding places and a lot of wasted time.

“Worse,” Quatre said, his voice quiet. He'd flinched while they'd been running up the staircase again, this time meeting resistance there. The fools had finally realized they needed to be cut off. It had taken perseverance and a little luck to take those people down. Quatre, when he'd fumbled, had taken a bullet in his lower calf. Due to the injury, Quatre was left to the back while the other two took care of the people scurrying behind doors and desks.

“How much worse?” Wufei demanded, then left before he could hear the answer, chasing after someone. He came back moments later, changing out his mag as he returned.

“The pain has spiked.”

“How much?”

But Quatre shook his head. “Duo's fighting it, like it's only half there. I think he's distancing himself from it.”

“Let's keep moving.”

Heero moved back to the stairway and scanned the area for anyone they might have missed. There was a strain in his step, one not caused by any physical injury. Quatre and Wufei followed him to the next level, unable to say anything more.

Duo's pain lanced up and down, sharper then weaker, a sign of a repetitive beating. Despite the pain of it, Quatre let the emotions wash over him. As long as they continued, Duo was alive. And as long as he was alive, they could continue moving forward.

They were on the eleventh floor when Quatre ran out of bullets again, followed shortly by Wufei. Heero went kamikaze, jumping out and shooting two more enemies. The last he ran toward instead of shooting. “Shit,” Wufei cursed, “Yuy must be out of bullets, too.”

“I can hear you all,” Trowa said over their comm. systems. “I'm only a short bit away – I'll come to you.” Which meant getting to Duo had been harder than they'd originally planned.

Heero finished his last opponent off just as Trowa came toward them from the staircase. The tallest of the group then proceeded to hand out extra rounds to each of them. When he got to Quatre, he smiled. “How are you?”

Quatre understood that the man was asking about his emotional state and simply nodded tightly. “I'll be fine. I just…” He gasped and crumpled to the ground.

“Quatre!”

“Winner!”

“No – no! Duo! Hold on!” He grabbed his head and shook it, as if somehow his words and actions could span across the distance, the four floors still remaining between them. “Duo, get up!” Because Duo's emotions had slipped into a state of low, humming pain and a blank canvas surrounding. He'd fallen unconscious.

Trowa grabbed Quatre's shoulders, and with the touch Quatre was reminded of where he was, what body he was in. He grabbed Trowa back, but wrapped his arms around the man's neck and pulled him into a hug. Then he closed his eyes and concentrated.

After only a brief moment, Trowa's arms encompassed him, and the man rested his head on Quatre's.

“He's been hit again – he's waking up,” Quatre said, more for the others than for himself. With Trowa's presence, he could stave off the worst of the emotions. “Duo's disoriented, confused – he's panicking, like he wants to run.” Quatre took a deep breath. “He can't. His emotions are dying off again. He's cutting them away from himself.” Duo's distance from his emotions helped Quatre pull away, as well. “It's like... like he's experienced this pain before, like he doesn't care.” He shuddered, then released Trowa from his near-chokehold. Trowa, understanding somehow, let Quatre go and helped him stand. The blond glared down at the floor. “Duo seems almost comfortable now, but he's been hurt again.”

“He was an orphan on the streets,” Wufei said quietly. The Asian's gaze was on the floor, as well, but instead of the pain and worry that Quatre's face portrayed, there was fury and betrayal. “He most likely received beatings before.” Then, lower, “ _damn_ you, Treize.”

“In any case, we need to hurry,” Trowa said. “Four more floors, and I've cleaned off almost everyone from them save the last. We're almost there. Just a little further.”

Quatre, Heero, and Wufei all reorganized their guns and the new clips. With a silent nod to one another, they headed once more for the staircase.

As soon as the door opened, gunshots were fired. And on a cry, Quatre fell to the ground.


	29. Don't Stay

They got tired of beating his back raw after he fell unconscious a second time. They left him lying on the floor for a moment, and as if from far away, he could hear sounds of Dermail speaking, shouting at someone for something. He sounded worried. Almost scared. But Duo didn't listen, didn't struggle to hear; if he did, he might start feeling the pain. That would be bad.

It was like a low hum, a kind of buzzing. An annoying one that wouldn't go away, like a fly that couldn't learn its lesson. He recognized several parts of it – the scraped skin, the bleeding, the flashing pulse of pain that flared with every heartbeat. The catch of the belt buckle against already-broken flesh was a new one, but it reminded him enough of a heeled shoe against a purpled bruise, something he'd felt before. If he likened the two to one another, somehow that made it easier. _Oh, yeah_ , his body seemed to respond, and like a worn shoe, the memory cloaked the pain in a veil.

It took some time, but finally someone came back to him and stepped on his shoulder. There was the heel he remembered. And though the gushing feel of blood seeping down his arm was never something he'd felt at the same time as the heeled shoe, it reminded him of the gangs and their switchblades, and that helped, too. Someone cursed and kicked his side, right where someone had kicked him earlier.

“Find something, dammit! We're running out of time!”

Shit. Shit, he was coming to. What the fuck was dredging him back to the surface? Why was he coming back?

“What were their names again?”

“There's a Quatre Raberba Winner, sir, a Chang Wufei, and a Heero Yuy. That's all we know so far, though we think there's at least one other.”

Heero.

Shit. He was such a fucking sap. If Heero's name alone brought him out of his stupor, then...

But wait. How did they learn about Heero and Wufei and Quatre? It couldn't...

“Find their families! They're friends! Send out some men – we have men outside still, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Find someone they care about, quickly! Find anything you can on them-”

“We can't, sir.”

“What the hell do you mean?!”

“There's... some sort of block on them. A firewall. We can't hack it.”

“A fire... you motherfucker!” Duo felt the kick this time with every fiber of his consciousness, and for the first time in forever, he reacted to the pain and coughed, hunching into the blow as best he could. Shit. He tasted blood on his tongue and remembered his bleeding cheeks. Shit.

“Tell me how to beat them. Tell me their weaknesses! The only way for you to survive is to tell me everything you know! Damn you!”

Duo's silence met with a kick to his face. On a short cry, he rolled onto his side. His shoulder wound bled sluggishly, and Duo felt underneath him a small pool of his own blood. He wheezed in a quick breath and felt pain stab at his sides.

Dammit. The pain – he shouldn't have risen out of his stupor. Now – now he had to fight to keep them from the information he had. Keep them from the flash drive he had tucked in his hair.

“Go ahead, fucker.” Duo spat out the blood on his tongue. Fuck. Internal bleeding? “Kill me. Then kiss my ass. You can't do shit if I'm dead.”

Dermail kicked him again. “How dare you. How dare you little freaks – Treize! Get Treize! He knew about this bitch, maybe he'll know about them.” Dermail stepped away from him. “Well?! I said go! And you! Get me something – something for him. Just make sure it'll hurt.”

“Yes, sir.”

Duo struggled to sit up, but the blood made his hands slip and the chain tugged tight. One short effort to get free stopped once his side lanced fire through his frame. So much for that.

“You know? You – you're pretty smart. But you already know that.” Duo turned his head to the side and curled his gaze around until he could see Dermail, pacing and rubbing a hand over his face. “You.” He stopped and stared down at Duo. “You will tell me what I need to know. They're strengths. They're weaknesses. Fucking everything. Do you hear me?”

Duo didn't bother to answer. He slid his eyes closed.

“Bastard!”

The impact of the dress shoe on his ribs brought a cracking sound and a new type of pain. He wheezed in a breath and felt the new fire in his side, the spreading, twisting visage of agony. He doubted it was the first one, though; the pain felt similar to other places along his torso. He coughed as more blood swelled into his mouth. Yeah. Internal bleeding.

He struggled to his stomach and let the blood ooze from his mouth. Dermail simply kicked him again, and as he fell to his side, he choked on his own blood. He turned his head and hacked, convulsing. Pain rose up and down, along his back, his side, his face and head and just everywhere. He could only hope now that death came, and before he truly did talk – or before the damn flash drive fell from the jostling. Just how well had Treize tucked it back in? It was originally fairly well-placed, but Treize...

Tears slid into the blood before he could stop them, tears that came from his struggle for breath. He lifted a hand to his throat on instinct, but Dermail stomped on it. His scream was garbled and only served to choke him again. He arched his back and hacked.

No. He wouldn't accept death. Not now. Not yet. He still had work to do. He still had people to protect.

“I'm here, uncle.”

“Treize. You know them, right? Those four? Those men?”

“Yes. I'm the one who told your men who they are.”

Duo took the distraction as his chance, and with one quick movement, he turned to his side, spat the blood out, and kicked the back of Dermail's knee. The man fell like a rock, but Duo managed to dodge well enough to avoid being crushed beneath the man. He flipped his braid around and grabbed one of the shards, heedless of the sharp edges that cut into his fingers. He rolled onto Dermail and pressed the shard to his throat, just close enough for the man to understand his position. The bastard looked terrified. Good.

“Don't move,” Duo hissed, and Treize and the other men beside him halted. Duo stared right into Dermail's eyes as blood dripped onto the man's face. Duo spat some on his face and watched him flinch. “Looks like things have changed, Dermail. Huh?”

“Don't be ridiculous. These men will kill you.”

“But you'll be dead, won't you? At least I won't be going alone.”

“You wouldn't dare.” Dermail turned his gaze to his men. “What are you doing? Shoot him!”

“They shoot, you die. The resulting jerk'll stick this shard straight into your throat. They're probably scared for their paychecks.” Duo pressed deeper for emphasis.

“Do it! He's weak! He's–”

Duo slid the shard up just a millimeter, just until Dermail realized it was cutting him. Spilling blood. Then the man went silent. “That's better,” Duo muttered. “Some fuckin' silence.” More blood spittled onto Dermail's face. It was starting to look like an abstract painting.

Of course, now Duo had no idea what to do. If he killed the man, he was toast. If he tried to move, he would be stopped by the chain, giving the guards and Treize the chance to shoot. He was trapped. Stuck.

But at least no matter what happened now, this bastard would not be getting to the others – or to those they cared about. He just needed to have faith in their ability to stop this organization.

He grimaced. No, thanks. He'd rather be alive to see it. And Heero.

Yeah. He very much wanted to see Heero again.

He just didn't know if he could live long enough.

* * *

“Quatre!”

Trowa's shout echoed down the stairs as they watched the blond fall again, just as he had at the start of the gunfight that had just ended. The youngest member was clutching his chest again, his eyes wide. “Rib,” he managed, then, “he's bleeding.”

“He's been beaten,” Heero said in a dead, clipped voice. He didn't look at the blond, but rather the staris above them. “Of course he's bleeding.”

“No – no. Worse.” Quatre struggled to his feet for a third time. Trowa once more helped him up and grounded him, this time by knocking shoulders. “Much worse. It's like his organs are weeping. It's internal.”

“Is he all right?” Trowa asked, accepting Quatre's words without question. He helped the boy as they started ascending, wary of being ambushed again.

“He – no – I don't know. He's still fully focused, fully aware. Fully – he's… I don't know. His emotions are… different now.”

“Different?” Wufei pressed. The man's face twisted.

“I can't describe it, but his emotions have triggered some in Chief Khushrenada, as well.” Quatre stumbled on a step and leaned into Trowa to keep from putting too much weight on his injured leg. Trowa easily supported him.

“How so?” Wufei's teeth were clenched.

“He was startled, but now his emotions are flashing around. I think he's considering his next move.”

“Bastard!” Wufei hissed, and then he was moving just that little bit quicker. They checked the fourteenth floor quickly, but there was no one.

“They've all convened on the top floor,” Heero noted. “Trowa, can you go up to the roof and make sure they have no escape route?”

“Of course.” Trowa slowly let go of Quatre, double-checking the blond before he left. Quatre waved him away with a reassuring smile.

“Quatre. How many?” Heero stood by the door, ready to run through. Wufei stood on the other side, in the far corner where he wouldn't be blocked by the door.

The blond closed his eyes and concentrated. Duo took up the largest portion of his awareness, his entire being slamming the blond with a constant stream of pain – back, side, head, heart, lungs. Everywhere. But small, tiny portions were doled out around the floor. Quatre could feel much more now that he was closer, and he counted each flash of emotion as it passed. But as he opened his mind to the others, Duo's presence only resonated more strongly. It made him sweat. “About – ten. Twelve? There are a few over there.” And he pointed. “They're all converging on Duo's location. There's only about six ready to welcome us. The others are either heading to Duo or are already there.”

“To clean up?” Trowa mused over their communication links.

At that, Heero bashed the door open.

The men waiting for them opened fire, but Heero had ducked back around the door into the stairwell. His eyes were carefully dead, the same as they usually were when he fought, but there was a hard, tight edge of terror.

Quatre fell flat to the floor and, as Wufei and Heero turned to him in concern once more, pushed out from the safety of the wall and shot three men in the leg, then one again as he fell. Heero took his back, and Wufei shortly did the same.

Wufei grabbed Heero's arm as two men ran off for shelter. Quatre picked one of them off as she left. He chased the last. Heero turned to Wufei with narrow eyes. “Yuy, go after Maxwell. Save him.”

Heero nodded and left without a word.

Wufei watched for a second, then went after their youngest to make sure he was still alive.

* * *

His playtime was over. Duo could hear other feet entering the room, knew more bullets were ready to meet his back than before. He had no more time to wait.

How close were they? How injured? Dermail had sounded scared. Did that mean they were almost here? Maybe… maybe they would be all right?

You know… just in case he died here.

“You bastard.” Dermail shifted slightly underneath Duo, as if testing his strength. The shard slid up his throat, and a fresh line of blood fell to the floor.

“Being a street orphan, I've put that possibility up as a good option, actually,” Duo said with a smile. But his breathing was heavy and garbled by good-sizes puddles of blood. He was fucking dead. It was only a matter of how long he had, and of who he was going to take with him.

If nothing else, he needed to decapitate this company. If he did, the resulting confusion and panic might be enough for the others.

He just had to be willing to die for it.

Heero.

He didn't know if he had the strength to leave that man.

But was he willing to have Heero die?

He scowled. No. No, he was not.

“Duo Maxwell. You can't escape from this room, no matter what you do.”

Treize. The man had called in back-up, which had most likely eased the way for Heero and the others. He'd also stayed the others' hands, if he'd heard correctly. The man was playing. It made Duo grin widely. The look must've been scary; Dermail's breath sucked in. “Escape? Bitch, I had no intention of going anywhere.”

“You will die.”

“And so will all of you. Your uninvited guests will take care of the rest.” Duo had to have faith in that, if nothing else.

Now the man really started squirming, but Duo only had to dig in. Dermail gurgled.

“No!” a soldier shouted.

Gunshots pounded through his ears.

Duo closed his eyes, prepared for the pain, but it didn't come. He jerked in surprise. Opened his eyes.

Dermail slammed one hand on Duo's injured side and darted out from under him, heedless of the red line that trailed on his neck like a flame.

Duo hung his head in shame as he fell to the ground and gasped. He'd lost him. His last chance to be something other than the damsel in distress, and he'd lost it. He should've taken it when he had the chance.

“Fire! What are you fools doing?!”

Duo turned to face his death and jerked again. Before him stood a tall figure, two guns pointed straight toward his troupe of enemies. Four were already down.

“Trowa?” he breathed.

“Duo. Hold on. The others are here to get you. They should arrive soon. Guys? He's still alive. I will protect him until you get here.”

“Trowa-” Duo watched as Dermail slid behind his guards and grabbed Treize. “Dermail – Dermail and Treize are – fuck!”

“Treize and Dermail are escaping,” Trowa said calmly, and Duo understood that the man was speaking through those communication devices they'd had before. “I'll hold the rest here.”

Trowa shot two men before they could decide who to shoot first.

They all seemed to believe the biggest threat then was Trowa, and the remaining men turned their guns to him.

“Don't underestimate me!” Duo shouted, and raised himself with a contorted leg. He aimed and threw his shard just as well as he could with his hands trapped against one another. One guard grabbed at his shoulder as the shard hit below its mark. The guard's shot went wild, striking another in the foot. Trowa took out three more as they shouted in confusion.

Then two more gunshots fired, and as Trowa ducked in front of Duo to defend him, another guard fell to the floor. The guards parted into two groups, three on one side, two on the other, their eyes darting behind them. After that, Duo couldn't see to follow the gunshots. Trowa grunted once, enough to make Duo struggle up, to tell him Trowa had taken a bullet for him, but other than that, all he could hear was gunfire and screams, and his lungs, already filling with blood, suffocated under the scent of sulfur.

He tried to sit up and felt the damn chain hold him in place, even as Trowa fell to one knee. “Trowa – Trowa, fucking move–”

“No need. It's over.”

And just as he spoke the words, the gunshots stopped. Duo coughed then and felt blood fall in splats to the floor. “I – how? Who was…?”

“Duo.”

Duo's head snapped up.

Maneuvering around Trowa was Heero, his gun held at his side. His gaze caught the blood everywhere and narrowed. “Duo,” he said again, his voice even breathier than the last time, and he dropped to Duo's side. “I…” Heero closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, they pierced Duo. “I got your message.”

Duo smiled, even as blood backed up in his mouth. “Thought you would. You're always a little too arrogant – always thinking you know other people's answers before you ask the questions.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Yuy,” Trowa said, holding his side as he stood, “is this really the best time?”

“Yes,” Heero said without any hesitation whatsoever. It made Duo laugh, even though doing so hurt like he'd never thought it could.

“Of course it is, asshole. I may run 'n' hide, but I never tell a lie.”

Heero smiled then. “That's what I thought. “Trowa, can you call an ambulance?”

“Of course. As soon as I find a phone. I'm sorry I didn't get to the roof, Heero – I needed to arrive here immediately.”

“Don't be stupid. You saved his life.” Heero looked Duo over more thoroughly then and froze as his gaze strayed to the chain. “Duo. What…?”

“Did you think I just sat here takin' it?” Duo didn't bother moving now. He didn't have to anymore. “You're stupid.”

Heero wordlessly leaned over and pulled at the peg in the ground. It fucking came up like it's been buttered. Duo glared at him. “Do you know where the keys are for this?”

Duo shook his head and decided laying down would be a good idea. He grimaced as his back touched the puddle of blood. Was that hygienic? “Nah. And that bastard stole my lockpicks after I got outta the cage.”

“Cage?” Heero echoed.

“Um-hum. When I escaped and talked to Wufei...” Duo's breath hitched. “Wufei? Quatre? Where are they? Why aren't they here?”

“They went after Dermail,” Heero answered. “Stay calm.” He brushed Duo's hair from his face. “Duo, I… I have to go after them. I need to… they have to be stopped. I…”

“Go, moron,” Duo breathed, smiling. “I'll live if you live.”

Despite the blood everywhere, Heero kissed Duo's brow. “I will live,” he promised, and raced off.

Duo watched until Heero was gone, then looked at Trowa. “Having fun yet?”

Trowa only rolled his eyes. “I'm going to grab a phone from a room next door.”

“And leave li'l old helpless me alone?”

Trowa smiled. “I doubt you're helpless, even now.”

Duo stuck his tongue at the tall bastard and let him leave without another witty remark. Then he struggled to grab a second shard from his hair. Funny. He felt much better now – less pain, less fear. Less anything. Was he dying? Or was he happy to know they were all right?

He closed his eyes and strained his hearing. He thought he could hear Trowa in the room next to him. Maybe… maybe it was just that he'd been able to see those cobalt eyes again. Maybe that was it.

Maybe he was just stupid and romantic and thank the gods Heero was okay.

Thank everything.

And then he snapped up, and even though the movement made every millimeter of his body flare up like he'd stepped into Hades' private torture chamber, he managed to get his feet underneath him and pushed up from the ground until he was swaying on his feet. He couldn't get his back straight; every time he moved, his side and back sprang new flash fires over his pores. He felt blood playing racing games down his body.

“Wufei,” he whispered, and stumbled forward.

Wufei might just be about ready to make a mistake that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

* * *

For almost thirty years, he'd been planning for the moment when the world would stop at his command. When his efforts and his money would bring him more than anyone thought they could dream. Why not take the world? Why not create a war if it meant greater power? What was wrong with accepting the difference in people? The power, the intelligence, the ability to follow intellectual pursuits? He was born to a well-to-do family with an old line of nobility with an IQ over 160. He was born exceptional. What was wrong with using the abilities given to him for what he wanted? It was his right to take what he had the power to take.

What the hell had gone wrong?

“Treize, we're taking the helicopter. Have you called for them? Have they arrived?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what? You called them, or they arrived?” Dermail turned around the corner and rushed to his private elevator. It would lead to the roof.

“Both, uncle.”

“Fine, then. Good.” Dermail ran a hand through his hair. “We'll take care of this. We'll get them. We'll take care of it. I don't need any of those fools. You alone will do.”

Treize didn't answer, but stopped and turned. “Ah. Wufei.”

Dermail turned. Treize faced a man he'd never seen before, a man with blood on his clothes and black hair pulled from his face. “Who are you?” Then it clicked. “Wufei? You're one of them?” He turned to Treize. “You know him?”

“Of course. He's my lover.”

Dermail gaped at his nephew, but the ma named Wufei reacted with a snarl. “How dare you, Treize Khushrenada! We are no longer lovers! I would never be with a man acting as you have! You – you allowed my friend to be tortured! You joined Romefeller! You – you have no honor!”

Treize simply smiled, even though the man had a gun trained on him. “Then shall we begin?” He pulled out his gun, and though Dermail was surprised the young man didn't just shoot Treize, his nephew seemed unperturbed.

“Yes. And so help me, Treize, I will see you dead!”


	30. With You

“Um, Heero? We have a problem.”

The last thing Heero wanted to hear when he had forced himself away from Duo's side – Duo, who had been covered in blood and had looked far too close to death – was that the one who was protecting Duo had a problem.

“What is it, Trowa?”

“Duo isn't here.”

Heero felt his heart drop through to his gut. “What do you mean?”

“I left the room for five minutes to call for an ambulance and returned to find Duo gone.”

Gone? Heero hurried to get to the roof, taking the stairs two at a time. The man would not attempt to go down – and if he did, Quatre, at least, would be waiting for them. In the meantime, Wufei would head them off.

There were only two people who could have Duo. Treize… or Dermail. Wufei had caught up with Treize…

“Where's Maxwell?” Wufei asked, his voice loud and clear over the communication link. His tone said he was speaking to the enemy. To Treize.

Duo was missing. Duo was missing.

His hands shook despite his training. All that blood – he was too injured. Too hurt. If he didn't get help soon, then…

No. No, he couldn't consider it. He just had to find Dermail and stop the man from escaping. If Duo was somehow with him…

But it didn't make sense. Dermail had already run, and Treize had gone with him. They wouldn't take the chance to back around, would they? Then what the fuck happened to Duo?

He held his breath. Dermail. Dermail first, Duo second.

He _had_ to hope that Duo would be all right. He had to… he had to.

* * *

Maxwell wasn't there. Maxwell, who had been captured and tortured and beaten, was out there somewhere, and _this man…_

“Do you have any idea of you've done?”

The man before him simply smiled. He recognized it from the aftermath of less aggressive battles, when they'd lay in his bed and Treize would prop himself on one arm and look at him like he was the sunrise. “Yes. I know.”

Wufei couldn't believe that gaze – those eyes. Not now. Not after all that man had done. “where is Maxwell?” he asked again, knowing he wouldn't receive any answer different than what he'd been given before. His friend was still out there, and because of this man, he was hurt.

And who else? What all had Treize been involved in? The death of Meiran? The death of Maxwell's loved ones? Yuy's? Barton's and Winner's?

“I already told you – I don't know. He has been left for you.”

“ _Left_ for me? You…!” Wufei found himself unable to speak. “He's not some trophy! And leaving him – he could have been killed! He still may die! I don't know how grievous his injuries are, but–”

“I know.”

“Of course you know, you were there!” Wufei felt his finger slip on the trigger, just enough that he almost shot Treize in the chest. The reaction scared him. Treize's hand was steady, much steadier than his own. As if Treize had no problem with the thought of killing him.

And why not? Wufei was only his lover. He'd done far worse to too many.

It was why he needed to die.

“That's not what I meant. I meant, Wufei, that I know what I have done.”

“And yet you still…!” Wufei narrowed his eyes as his voice once again failed him. “How many have you killed?”

“Before tonight, the number was two hundred and thirty-one. I believe it has most likely risen dramatically due to this venture.” Treize closed his eyes a moment, then smiled again. “The number is very large. So many people, simply for what I believe to be correct. But you also have a death toll on your shoulders, do you not? For what you believe to be correct.”

“Don't you dare criticize me. Not now. Not after all this.” Wufei tensed and prepared to move. To strike. “You have no right.”

“Does anyone?”

Wufei slid to the ground and fired. Treize dodged a quick right and shot for Wufei. The dodging rolls continued, both jumping back and forth, crouching, lunging – Wufei whipped his gun around to hit Treize's head, but he ducked and raised his own. Wufei had to bend back almost ninety degrees to avoid the bullet.

“This is a bit more dangerous than our usual games, isn't it, Wufei?” Treize simply smiled again. It made Wufei's blood boil. “And unlike before, this game won't end the same.”

“It's not a game, Treize! It was never a game!” Wufei shot at Treize wildly as he spun around, simply trying to keep Treize's hand from pressing the trigger. “Lives are not chess pieces!”

Wufei shot again as he slid to a stop, and this time, Treize grunted and stumbled. His gun fell to the ground.

“'Fei…”

Wufei jumped at the sound, though it was still a ways off. Duo?

But Treize was moving, ducking to grab his gun, and he didn't have time to worry about why his friend was calling his name.

“'Fei, don't…”

He fired again, and this time Treize fell.

He stood trembling, and though he knew it was stupid, though he had yet to ascertain the man's death, he dropped his weapon to the ground. “You can't be serious.” Wufei walked forward like he was dead. “Treize… what are you doing? You always beat me.”

He sat on his ass and stared at that tawny brown hair and felt as if he'd been frozen in time. He didn't even feel anything yet. He didn't feel anything for the lover he'd just killed.

“Wufei.”

He turned and gasped. In an instant he was back on his feet.

For all intents and purposes, his friend should have been dead. There was blood everywhere, dripping from too many wounds for him to count. Duo lurched to one side as he walked, one bleeding arm grabbing at his waist. His face was beaten, bruised and bleeding, and one flap of skin was hanging like a broken twig from his cheek.

“Wufei.”

“Duo!” he breathed in horror, too concerned to worry about calling out his friend's first name. He ran up to his friend to help, but he didn't know what to do – where to touch so it wouldn't hurt.

“Wufei – don't fight Treize…” Duo leaned against the wall and winced. Wufei's hands hovered over his friend. “He's…” But Duo's gaze slid down to the floor, and suddenly he clammed up. “Are you okay?” was all he asked then.

Wufei couldn't think about it. “I'm fine.”

Duo grimaced. “I'm sorry.”

“What were you… Duo – Maxwell. What are you doing here?” He hard a loud shout from Quatre and others and winced at the noise.

“Treize.” Duo nodded to the downed man. “I – I was trying to get to you… before…”

Wufei shook his head and went to retrieve his pistol. “It's over.”

“I – it is, isn't it?”

Duo looked sad. It almost made Wufei angry. Why was Duo upset? This man had hurt him. The idea of Duo being upset by his death… he clenched his fists. “Yes.”

“No.”

Wufei turned and raised his gun, but Duo was moving, too, grabbing his gun with a hand slick with blood. Wufei instinctively pulled from it, unwilling to be near his friend's – his eyes flicked back to Treize. The man wasn't moving, but he'd just spoken. He was still alive? Had Wufei missed?

Duo stayed in front of Wufei's gun, but Wufei could still see Treize's body. “Wufei,” the man said, still unmoving on the floor, “you've gotten much better.”

“Shut up, asshole,” Duo said, voice thick with blood. He spat it out. “You ain't dyin'. We've got an ambulance comin'. You can explain your stupidity later.”

“Maxwell,” Wufei hissed, “just what the hell do you think you're doing?”

But Duo stumbled away from him, toward the man that he'd just shot to protect the fool man. “Treize is an asshole and deserves to rot in jail, but you shouldn't kill him.”

“He's already dead,” Wufei said, voice tight. Shouldn't kill him? A dead weight settled in Wufei's chest, a dead ball of lead in his heart. “Why?”

Duo struggled to turn Treize over, but all he managed to do was curl up with a choked gasp. “Wufei, help me turn him over.”

Dumbly, Wufei did as told. “Maxwell, what are you doing?”

“He's an ass,” he repeated, and when Wufei had Treize on his back, he pressed against the bullet wound. Wufei _had_ missed, after all; he'd shot for Treize's heart, but had only punctured a lung, from the looks of it. “He was all wrong – he didn't do anything right – but he wanted them to go down.”

“Duo, he _joined_ them.”

“And he left my weapons in my hair. And the flash drive I had that had your information. They were going to go after people you love, Wufei. If Treize had given them that damn flash drive, a bunch of innocent people would all be dead. And maybe you guys, too.”

And if there was anything Maxwell cared about, it was innocents and those he loved.

Yes, that would be enough for Maxwell to forgive him.

And, honestly… it was enough for him, too.

“Oh, God. What have I done?”

“You haven't done anything yet,” Duo snapped. Treize chuckled at him. “And you – be quiet. Every time you open your fuckin' mouth, I wanna beat you to death.”

“I apologize. My death is Wufei's.”

“Hey!” Duo raised his fist.

Wufei rushed over then, ripping off his shirt, leaving only his Kevlar vest on. Duo moved away, glaring at Treize as he leaned against the wall. “Is that what happened?” Wufei pressed against Treize's bleeding wound. “You let me beat you? You gave me victory?”

“I would never dishonor you in such a way, Wufei.” Treize smiled. “It was a grand fight, don't you think? One worthy of the end of this battle.” He closed his eyes.

“No – no, you asshole! I thought… I never knew – you hid the truth from me! I thought you'd joined the enemy – that you were one of them! You left Duo to be…” He pressed a bit too hard then. Treize actually winced.

“Yes. I did.”

It was just like him to not defend himself. Treize always took responsibility for his actions. Always. “ _Why?_ ”

“If he escaped again, everything would be lost. Your friend is stubborn, Wufei – like you.” Treize winced again, and this time blood dribbled down his cheek. “If he could, he would run again. And Dermail would escape.”

“Not with you beside him,” Wufei said. He glanced at Duo and felt his heart skip. His friend was unconscious. “Duo!”

“I told you, Wufei – my death is yours. I could not be the one to bring in the new age.”

“Bullshit.” Wufei sneered, even as he looked back to his friend again. He wasn't moving. He hadn't responded to Wufei's call.

“What's happening? I can't feel Duo anymore!” Quatre called from over the link, the first anyone had said in a while. “Is he… dead?”

Wufei bit his lip. “Maxwell, answer me!” he snapped, not certain whether he should leave Treize. Maxwell's every effort had been to keep Treize alive. For his sake? “Maxwell!”

“Jesus, shut up,” Duo moaned. Wufei felt weak with relief.

“I need you to stay awake for me, Duo, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Duo's head lolled.

“I'm coming up to help,” Quatre said. “I can feel Dermail now; he's the only healthy person left I don't recognize. He's definitely–”

“Dermail.”

It was Heero's voice. Wufei hissed a sharp breath. “Maxwell? Heero's with Dermail. Heero has Dermail.”

That woke Maxwell up, just as Wufei'd hoped it would. “He's alone with that sadist?”

“Yes. Trowa should be getting to him, though. And Quatre's coming to us.”

“Qat?” Duo frowned, but his eyes started sliding closed before he could decide what to say next. Wufei watched blood dribble down to the floor. He was dying. Duo was dying right in front of him.

“How could you condone this?” Wufei asked, his eyes still on Duo, his voice weak.

“I wouldn't let him die. He was to be captured, not killed.”

Wufei's eyes hardened. “Captured. You _bastard_.” This time he pressed too hard on purpose.

“But because of it,” Treize said quietly, “you and Yuy gave everything to get here. Fighting for honor will not keep you alive, Wufei. Nor will it save those fighting beside you.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? That they wouldn't have succeeded if they hadn't fought for Duo? Bull. They'd been prepared to fight from the beginning. And they'd never intended to lose.

“Fuck you, Khushrenada.” Duo groaned again. “You and I both know you just didn't have enough... you know, just in case. If they _didn't_ get up here, if we somehow failed, you would have taken him down.”

Treize chuckled again, but this time he stopped in the middle and gurgled. He slid his head to the side and let the blood in his mouth seep. It pooled into a puddle that matted Treize's usually impeccable hair.

“I'm almost there, guys. Just hold on.”

“Quatre's almost here,” Wufei said to Duo, who only nodded and huffed out a short breath. Wufei didn't know who to look at – his lover? His friend? Had Treize truly been ready to kill his uncle? But why would he wait for them? Why not do it himself? Treize had always spoken about honorable deaths and the beauty of the dying.

But Wufei had never seen any beauty. Or honor. And right now, all he could see was his lover's glassy gaze and bloody chest and… he clenched his eyes shut. “Why, Treize? Why have you done this?”

“Ah, the speech of the dead.” Wufei jerked at the words, but Treize simply smiled. “My last confession? Do you truly want to bear the burden of it, Wufei?”

Wufei trembled. He had shot Treize himself. He couldn't say anything plaintive like 'you'll be just fine.' The chances of Treize living were slim – just like Duo. Both were almost lost to him. He bent his head and clenched his eyes shut and…

A tear slipped down his cheek.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes. I need to hear the truth.”

“All right, then.” Wufei opened his eyes, even though it meant letting more tears fall and losing his sight. Quatre would be there soon to back him up, anyway. “I learned of my uncle's treacherous ways when I was young, I would say around ten years of age. I had tried to fight against him, but I was too small, and no one took me seriously. They thought I was playing a game. I grew smarter, and when I could, I ran from them and illegally joined the army when I was sixteen. I met J there, though I hadn't recognized who he was. He taught me how to find you five.”

Quatre ran up to them then. “Duo!” he gasped. The blond covered his mouth with one hand, even as Duo turned to him and shot him a tired grin.

“Thanks so much, Qat,” he said. Quatre jumped a bit at the sound of his voice. Then he was moving, grabbing his shirt and removing it as Wufei had, ordering Duo to lie down on whatever hurt the least. He started talking lowly to Duo, apparently asking questions. And though Duo mostly grunted out affirmatives or negatives, it was keeping him conscious. Wufei watched for a moment longer before once more giving Treize his attention.

“I managed to find you four after I joined the force and upped the ranks. Wufei. You were the first. I hadn't known…” But Treize just smiled and shook his head.

Quatre pulled out a cell phone from his front pocket and dialed 9-1-1 again. Wufei could hear him talking to both the operator and Duo in turns.

“After I found all of you… when Duo Maxwell finally, finally appeared… I could finally put the plan into motion.”

“Heero, I'm here!”

Wufei jumped at Trowa's voice over the link, then stood in alarm as Yuy cried out.

Yuy never cried out.

Winner winced and grabbed his left thigh. The two of them shared a look.

“What?” Maxwell demanded. “What happened?” He struggled to get up from his place on his stomach. Winner touched his right shoulder and whispered to him. He froze, then struggled a little harder. “We can't leave yet. Heero's up there injured!”

“And Trowa has his back,” Winner said. If it was supposed to help, his tone ruined the chance – he sounded worried, too. Winner closed his eyes and bit his lip. “They're all right for now.”

“For now?!” Maxwell was having nothing of that.

“Both of you, shut up,” Wufei said. “We're staying here until they call for back-up. Maxwell, how do you think Yuy would feel if you went up there right now? You would only slow him down. Stay down here and let Winner patch you up. If Yuy needs help, I will go.” Though the thought of leaving Treize hurt like nothing else.

“No. Qat'll go.” Duo muttered something else under his breath, then, loud enough for them all to hear, “he should stay with his man, just like you.”

Wufei wanted to argue, but in the end, it was true. And Winner could do more than him with his ability to sense people. “All right.” He looked back down to Treize, worried that he might have lost the man while he spoke. The man's eyes were closed, and he was still. “Treize?”

“I'm still here, Wufei.” Nothing but the man's mouth moved, but it was enough for more blood to dribble down his mouth to his hairline. “There was... very little chance of the five necessary getting through to the top of Romefeller. My uncle was bright enough to run away... and strong enough to rebuild.”

He had to stop a moment to breathe. Wufei felt the dried tears return to drown his eyesight. He wiped them away, but Treize's blood smeared over his eye and brow. He shivered at the smell of it.

“I used Maxwell when I learned he would not join the other four. If I made myself the enemy – if I made the cops the enemy – you would all fight together, against Romefeller and against me.” Treize smiled. “I had to become your enemy, as well, Wufei. For you to succeed, you needed to want me dead.”

“That's stupid,” Wufei said. Treize opened his eyes to smile at him, but the tears made it impossible to see that ice blue shine. “You're stupid, Treize – I didn't need to want you dead. This... it wasn't necessary.”

“You left because you hated me,” Treize told him, though he well knew it already. “And you lost your faith in honor and integrity. You're so black and white, Wufei – you and Heero Yuy, both believing in what's right and what's wrong. You lost your conviction.”

The tears dripped onto Treize's face. Wufei brushed them away and fought against them. “That's why you took Maxwell. That's why you…” Wufei choked against the sob in his throat.

“Maxwell was jeopardizing your resolve. Your concern kept you moving forward without thinking... about the lost lives.” Treize winced. “And if he went out there, he would die.”

It was true. Without several weapons and allies, Duo would have been taken down in no time. But had Treize really taken Duo to be tortured for that? And was it worth it? “You may have ended up killing him, anyway. He may still be dead.”

Treize nodded, but the movement was slow and slight and his eyes were drifting closed again. “I will not excuse my actions.”

“Treize, dammit, stay alive to take responsibility for all this!” Wufei grabbed Treize's shoulder and shook him. “Don't you dare do this to me!”

“It was a grand battle, Wufei. Thank you.”

“You bastard! Don't die! Don't…!” Treize slumped in his arms. “Treize!”

Winner looked at him and then answered something the operator asked. “Top floor, three lefts and a right, then one more left. You'll see a trail of blood after the second left.” Quatre rubbed a hand through Duo's hair. “Yes – yes. And send word that an undercover cop has been downed. See if we can get reinforcements now that we've been shot.”

Wufei tuned him out and shook Treize again. “Please,” he whispered.

Another shout came over the comm. link, again from Heero. This time Winner gasped and grabbed his chest. “Oh, my God,” he said. Then he shot to his feet. “I'm sorry, Wufei – I've got to go. Now.”

“Do it.” He looked at Treize one last time, and despite his dislike of such romantic things, bent and kissed the man's bloody brow. “I'm sorry, Treize. Sorry for the end of our destinies.” He squeezed the man's hand, then stood and moved to Maxwell's side. Winner was looking at him with tears in his eyes. “Go.”

Winner nodded and ran off.

“'Fei.” Maxwell moved his arm a bit, trying to grab at Wufei. He took his friend's hand in his. Maxwell's strength had waned drastically, but he found enough to squeeze once, quickly. “I'm here.”

It hurt him to see his friend giving to him even on his deathbed. His heart was heavy, but numb, as if waiting for more tragedy. He knew death would follow these wounds. He knew he would lose his friend, as well. He couldn't bear the thought. So, for once, he simply didn't think about it. “I know you are, my friend. And I am here, as well.”

Despite everything, Maxwell smiled. “Heero?”

He hesitated. “I do not know.”

Duo frowned. “Bad. Qat left. It's bad.”

“Yes.” Qat, hm? The little blond had gotten a nickname, too, just like himself. 'Fei. Maxwell could make friends like no other, even in situations like theirs. “Maxwell. Treize…”

Maxwell clenched his hand again. “Sorry. I tried to get to you… I failed. I should have said something. When Heero was in the room. I should've…”

“No. No, there's nothing to be done. This is how our fates end. It's as simple as that.”

It didn't feel simple at all.


	31. Nobody's Listening

Wufei called out Duo's name, and it felt like ever muscle in his body contracted all at once. It made him falter just as he reached the roof door. Duo? Duo was with Wufei? What – why?

What the hell was Duo thinking?!

“I'm fine,” Wufei said, most likely reacting to something Duo said. Heero couldn't hear Duo's voice – was he all right? What was the fool doing? “What were you... Duo – Maxwell. What are you doing here?”  
“Tell him to get the fuck down,” Heero said and ran out to the roof. There was no one there. He checked the area, guard up, but the roof was clear. Did that mean the man had gone to Quatre? And where was Trowa? He waited by the stairway entrance, his eyes scanning the sky. There was no helicoptor, though a landing pad sat in the middle of the roof floor. Would one come? But if it had been sent for, it would already have arrived. Unless Treize just now called for it.

He had to stay up here and take care of the threat. Just in case.

So he stood there in the night and waited for some stars to start moving, to give him a signal of an enemy approach, and listened as Wufei called out to Duo. First name. Use of Duo's first name. His hands clenched around the handle of his revolver.

“What's happening?” Quatre shouted over the link. Heero flinched against the sound, though he didn't hear any sounds of battle. Where was Dermail hiding? “I can't feel Duo anymore!”

What?

No. Duo couldn't… he couldn't be dead! Sweat made his hands slip on his gun, and only both clenching white-knuckled kept his grip from falling entirely. Duo? What had happened to Duo? Heero's eyes scanned the roof, the darkness and the emptiness. What was he doing standing here when Duo…

He checked the stairway and, seeing it was clear, rushed down it. Wufei called for Duo again, and dammit but he couldn't tell if he was getting an answer or not. No enemy confronted him as he raced down.

“I need you to stay awake for me, Duo, okay?”

Talking. Wufei was talking to Duo. Heero stopped then. Duo was alive. He was still alive. Had he merely fallen unconscious for a moment? But with Duo's injuries, it wasn't a 'merely.' If Duo didn't stay awake like Wufei told him to, he may not wake up again.

He… needed to get back to his post.

He just barely made it to the top of the stairs when he heard soft footsteps across the rooftop. He slid to the edge of the doorway and peeked around.

Dermail was heading toward the middle of the roof, a stunned look on his face. The old bastard turned around, then again before finally seeing Heero standing there, pistol pointed at the man's head. In his ear, he could hear Quatre telling Wufei he was coming to act as back-up, that he knew where Dermail was.

Yeah. Right in front of Heero's face.

Heero stepped out from cover. “Dermail.”

“Y-You! What did you do? Where's my 'copter?”

The man ran toward Heero like he was going to tackle him to the ground. Heero simply lifted his gun a little more. Right between the bastard's eyes. He didn't bother saying anything. If the man had expected a helicopter, then someone in his group had failed.

Wufei was talking to Treize now. Heero tuned them out and allowed them as much privacy as he could.

“There never was a 'copter, Dermail. Seems you've been betrayed.” Heero stepped forward. Dermail was surprised, but fear hadn't yet crossed his face. Was he planning something? Or had something already _been_ planned?

“Yes, perhaps. But I was prepared for Treize's mutiny. He's in the habit of doing such things, you understand.” Dermail clicked his fingers, and from the other side of the roof, a man exited a small, tiny elevator shaft. Heero watched the new foe, but he didn't move his aim from Dermail's forehead. “I recruited an old friend of his. Too bad the two didn't get the chance to meet.”

The man was wearing a mask to hide the upper part of his face, but his hair was too long to be covered up. Heero narrowed his eyes. Had this man been there during Duo's beating? Had he participated?

But right now, Heero's goal was to stop Dermail, first and foremost. Anything else could wait.

“Besides,” Dermail said, his hands shifting from a defensive position before him to his pockets, “if you kill me, you'll never get the antidote.”

The masked man went to stand near Dermail. His build said that he was tough, strong. Much younger than Dermail. Most likely around Treize's age. Or even close enough to Heero's own. Who was he? Had Duo found the man during his hacking?

But that was a moot question. Duo hadn't had the time to sort through everything, and they certainly hadn't gone through it all before rushing to Duo's rescue. Whoever this man was, he was an unknown entity. But so had been every enemy Heero had gone up against as a cop. This was no different.

But now Duo's life may be on the line.

“What do you mean?”

Dermail shrugged, but his smile was one of victory. “I simply gave your friend something to… calm him down, let's say.”

Heero bared his teeth. “You will wish you hadn't.”

“Enough,” the masked man said, speaking for the first time. His voice was throaty, what he imagined a dense fog would sound like if given a voice. “My job is to fight you and protect Mr. Dermail. Let's get to it.”

The masked man pulled out his gun.

Heero ducked and rolled, aimed his gun as he did, and fired before the man could turn his safety off.

The masked man twirled through a dodge and clicked off his safety before shooting twice at Heero still-rolling form.

“I'm almost there, Heero!” Trowa shouted.

Heero managed to pull himself to his feet unharmed. He fired again.

The masked man ducked to the ground and fired again.

Heero moved to dodge, but he wasn't fast enough. The bullet dug into his left thigh, though the bastard had been aiming for something a little more important. Good thing Heero'd moved as quickly as he had.

He didn't let the new injury slow him down. Instead he twisted to his side and shot from his left, then rolled and switched hands before shooting again. He managed to clip the man's shoulder.

Dermail had run over to hide beside the elevator shaft.

“You're good,” the masked man grunted. He didn't hold his wound, and the blood dripped onto the helicopter pad. “Who are you?”

“You first. You're the one with the mask.” Over the speakers, Wufei was telling Duo to stay where he was. Did Duo want to come up here? In his condition?

He had to trust Wufei and Quatre to take care of the fool.

“Call me the Lightning Baron.” The man moved to stand before Dermail, blocking Heero's chance to take the man out.

“ _Call_ you Lightning Baron. That's not your name.” Heero watched the man's right arm. The moment it moved, he would react. “Call me Wolf. It's an old nickname.”

“Oh?” The man smiled. “It was Treize who gave me mine. And yours?”

Treize? Heero drew his brows together. Treize was the one? Then this man truly _was_ an old friend of Captain Khushrenada. “Then your loyalty should be to Treize, not to Dermail.”

The man shrugged. “I have my own reasons for being here, just as I believe you do.”

“What are you doing?” Dermail called, still hiding behind the Lightning Baron's body. “Kill him, already!”

The Lightning Baron grimaced. “I have orders to follow, so let's finish this up, shall we?”

“Fine.”

“An honorable duel, then?”

The Lightning Baron put his gun into the waist of his jeans. His hand then hovered over it as if they were reenacting an old Wild West scene. Heero wasn't fond of the idea, but shooting the man right now seemed underhanded. With a grimace, he, too, placed his gun in his jeans.

“Whenever you're ready,” the man said.

Heero watched the man's right arm once more. If someone was to start this charade of a battle, it would be he who was prepared for every single possible consequence. Heero was prepared to die, but not if it meant Duo dying. He could still see Duo's mangled body, the blood and cuts and… but the worst were those eyes. They'd looked vacant. They'd never looked vacant before. Duo was too full of emotions to have such a… dead gaze.

If things turned to hell, it would still end with Duo remaining alive. He wouldn't allow any other ending.

Their hands moved almost consecutively.

“Hurry up, dammit!”

Heero crouched instinctively, throwing off his own aim. He let himself tilt onto his bad leg to make up for lost time and fired late, then again.

“Heero!”

He head Trowa's call just before pain blossomed like a flower over his chest. He fell, still firing his gun. His last shot fled into the sky.

Trowa ran to him and crouched in front of him. “Heero! Status!”

He was too busy gasping for breath to answer.

“I'm sorry, Wufei – I've got to go.”

Quatre. That was Quatre's voice. He was coming to their location.

But didn't that mean that Wufei was alone with Duo and Treize? Wasn't that a bad thing? Heero grabbed at his chest and gasped for breath.

The Kevlar vest. Quatre's Kevlar vest had protected him.

“Who are you?” Trowa demanded. Heero's gaze was spotted with gray, but he could make out Trowa's form in front of him, continuing to shield him as he gasped.

The man answered, but his voice was thick with heavy breaths and interspersed with coughs. “I will not introduce myself again. You – Wolf. It seems you may be better than I'd believed.” The man chuckled, but it turned into coughing.

“Lower your gun,” Trowa said, his voice level and calm. “If you don't, I will shoot. And I will shoot to kill.”

The man chuckled again. “Of course.” It took a moment, but Heero heard the clatter that said the man had surrendered.

“Now take off your clothes,” Trowa said.

Heero managed to get his breathing under control by the time Trowa spoke again, his voice softer. Trowa was speaking to him now. “I believe you would want the honor of this, Heero.”

He clutched at his chest, but he could breathe now, and Trowa was right. More than anything, Heero wanted the pleasure of taking this man. Of stopping him. Of maybe even killing him in cold blood. The thought was enough to get him to his feet.

The Lightning Baron was on his knees in his boxers, his hands behind his feet. Heero's first bullet had hit too far right; his shoulder was bleeding, and Heero had most likely shot through the man's right clavicle. He would live. A couple of meters away were his pants and shirt, and beside those, his gun. The man's helmet had been broken by Heero's gunfire, but only a small dribble of blood slid down the man's cheek. His eyes were partially obscured by that platinum-blond hair, but Heero could see a cold ice-blue. Almost like Treize's eyes.

Beyond the man cowered Duke Dermail.

Heero picked up his pistol and walked past the Lightning Baron, trusting Trowa to have the man under control. Dermail skirted around the elevator shaft. He was most likely armed now, waiting for Heero to turn around one of the corners so he could be picked off.

Heero kept moving forward.

“What are you doing here? I've seen you in the station before. Your name's Merquise.”

“Yes and no,” the man said, his voice still throaty. “It's the name I'm known by now, and the only one I accept.”

“Then it's your name,” Trowa said.

Heero didn't bother looking back at them. Trowa still seemed to be in control. His eyes were on the elevator shaft, waiting to see if the man would move from his position behind it. He wouldn't walk into the bastard's trap, but he had no intention of letting Duo's captor get away, either.

“What are you doing here?” Trowa asked again.

The Lightning Baron sighed. “I am here to make sure this ends.”

“Guys, I'm almost there. Just wait a little while longer.” It was Quatre's voice, coming through their link. Heero didn't pause.

“Quatre. We're both all right. Wufei, relay that to Duo only if you think it'll keep him up. If not, tell him Heero's in critical condition.”

Heero grimaced at that one. But whatever kept Duo alive was acceptable.

“That man with you – I hadn't felt him until recently,” Quatre told them. Behind him, he heard the stairway door slam. “But he isn't an enemy. At least, I don't think so. He has no aggressive emotions. He's actually… I think amused is the best word. And worried.”

“He should be worried. He's practically naked and has a gun trained on him.” Heero heard Quatre's approaching footsteps, then heard them stop behind him. Quatre would be with Trowa. And now Heero was in front of the elevator shaft, and only feet from him was Dermail. Heero grabbed the top of the square shaft and hunched over. Dermail didn't move from the back. Idiot.

“That's not the right kind of worried. You're concerned about someone,” Quatre said. And now he was apparently talking to their enemy. Conversationally.

Heero ignored it and tread lightly until he could see from the back. Dermail cowered behind the building, his .38 close to his chest, his eyes rushing from left to right. Only a foot from his feet was the ledge. Heero couldn't let the man fall. Not until he knew what the bastard had done to Duo.

He pointed down and shot the man's palm. With a sharp cry, Dermail dropped his gun. He clutched his bleeding hand to his chest and looked up, eyes wide.

“Tell me what you did to Duo, and I will let you live.”

The man's wide eyes narrowed then. The bastard started grinning. “Let me go, and I'll tell you what poison I used.”

“Heero,” Quatre called over, “whatever you two are discussing, he's being deceitful. He has false bravado.”

“Hear that?” Heero asked, and the man took a step back, stopping only as he felt the ground disappear from beneath his foot. He lurched forward again. “My partner says you're lying. You have no intention of telling me. So me letting you live is actually a luxury.”

“Okay, okay!” The man put his hands up. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I used lithium, that's all. Just lithium.”

“He's lying,” Quatre called out.

“I'm not! I'm not! Shut up!” Dermail shouted, raising his voice and turning his head to the other side of the shaft. His eyes snapped back to Heero when he heard the click of the gun. “Okay! Look, I didn't use a poison. I was lying about that, okay? I was!” His voice rose as Heero's frown grew. He didn't have time for this man's games. Duo was dying.

“He's telling the truth now, Heero.”

He was?

Heero bared his teeth at the man. “You told me that to keep your own life. So that I wouldn't shoot you.”

The man nodded so quickly he looked like a bobble-head doll.

“You _bastard_.” Heero pulled the trigger then. The bullet ripped into the man's right shoulder, twisting him around until he fell on the ledge, just a few inches from toppling over and down the fifteen-story height. “You should _die_. For what you've done...” He took a deep breath. “But I am not like you. I will not kill for my own pleasure, no matter how much I wish to.”

“Heero,” Quatre called out then, his voice still somehow gentle despite his volume. Still speaking up for Dermail's benefit, as well.

Heero took a deep breath, then put the safety on his gun and placed it in his jeans waist again before dropping down beside Dermail. The man was still on the ground, and with his good arm he pushed himself back from Heero.

“No – stay back!” The man put up his good hand then as Heero stepped forward. “I won't let you ruin this for me! You brat!” He struggled to stand, and his flailing limbs almost sent Heero over the edge. He backed up to escape Dermail's legs–

–and watched the man flail himself right over the edge.

He leaned down to grab the man, but hesitated just long enough to miss. If he'd grabbed on, his position would've only taken himself down with Dermail. Instead he watched Dermail's eyes widen, watched his mouth open on a scream, and watched that body fade into a small speck before slamming on the ground far below, between two white vans. He didn't hear the landing.

Heero watched for a second longer, then hurried out from the back. He didn't have time to waste mourning the death of a man he abhorred.

He grabbed his ear and spoke for the link. “Wufei? How's Duo? Is he all right?” There was no immediate answer, and he bolted back to the stairwell. “Wufei, answer me!”

“How's Treize?” The Merquise guy asked as he passed the man.

He turned, just barely giving the man a glance before turning away again.

“I don't know. Wufei,” he said, his voice almost cold, “I'm coming down the fifteenth floor. You better fucking answer me.”

Still no answer.

“Heero, I felt them leaving,” Quatre said, speaking softly now, letting the link carry his voice. “The ambulance must have come; new people entered the fifteenth floor. Their intentions were good, and Wufei was relieved to see them. I could still feel Duo, just barely. He was conscious.”

Heero turned from the stairwell and looked at Quatre. The man was looking at him while Trowa kept his gun trained on Merquise. “He's still alive?

“He was when the ambulance arrived.” The stipulation was easy to catch – he _was_ , but Quatre didn't know if the same could be said for the present. “I can feel where a few remain, waiting to hear from us. I'll go get them. If nothing else, we can get this man in jail and get your wounds checked out.”

Heero wanted to see Duo. He _needed_ to see Duo.

But he understood the dangers. Merquise needed to be locked up, and the gunshot in his leg was dangerously close to his femoral artery. Quatre had been emotionally stressed, too, and needed to rest.

The battle was over. Romefeller – the thing they'd been raised on, both knowingly and unknowingly, was gone. They could start their lives over now.

But what would they be leaving behind?

* * *

See, everything in him wanted to just clunk out and say to hell with it. In fact, every second that passed made that idea sound even better. Especially as he was being bumped along the asphalt to the ambulance waiting for him.

But he had a couple of things to stay awake for.

One, Wufei was in tears. Duo had already told the man not to go with him to the hospital. There was someone else more important to follow.

Treize was alive.

Of course, the chances of him living were slim, almost nonexistent. But Wufei was on Duo's orders to go with Treize and find out whether he lived or died. Maybe Wufei being there would make the difference. Maybe not. Either way... either way, this was how it was supposed to be. Wufei should be with Treize.

Duo hissed out a breath as the bastard EMT's hoisted him up into the ambulance. And then, of course, was the other reason he couldn't leave.

He watched a SWAT team run past the van toward the building and snorted. Bastards. Late as always.

The EMT's started shouting shit Duo didn't understand, and then hands were fucking everywhere. He bucked and pushed, but those hands turned from touching to grabbing, and his arms were held to his sides. He tugged and pulled. Straps wrapped around his wrists, then his ankles. He tried to calm down, but being strapped down only spiked his panic as those hands returned.

“Where the fuck is Heero?” He leaned his head back and groaned. The gray spots from before were turning black.

But he _had_ to wait for Heero. He didn't want to feel the same pain Wufei was feeling.

Someone put an oxygen mask over his mouth. It took only one short breath for him to realize that there was some sort of drug in the air tank thing. He jerked away from it. Dammit, he was trying to stay awake. Didn't those idiots realize that?

He held his breath and fought the cloud rolling over his brain.

The EMT's didn't seem to like that all that much.

Underneath him, the ground started to rumble. The ambulance's alarm sounded. They were heading out.

Where the fuck was Heero?

“No – damn you people,” he hissed through the mask, and gulped in a breath. His head fuzzed. Fuck. _Fuck_.

“Duo!”

“Heero,” he breathed. He struggled to get up and groaned again when he couldn't. On the bright side, he could no longer feel any pain. Gods, they were jacking him on morphine. He leaned his neck up to try to see out the back door, but the damn thing was closed. The car shifted underneath him.

“Let me out,” Duo shouted, wrenching his head to the right. The mask stayed firmly in place. “Hey!” He fell back, unable to move anymore. The hands were done cutting off his remaining clothing and shouting random shit. Now they were putting weird shit on his wounds and bandaging him up. Where was Heero? Was he okay? Was the idiot chasing after him half-dead?

Was there another ambulance for him?

“Heero.” The ambulance was probably picking up speed, but Duo couldn't tell. His eyes slid shut. Some jackass EMT muttered something sarcastic about his state.

He wanted to see Heero. The man had met up with Dermail, and Wufei had told him that Heero was in critical condition. Critical condition. What did that _mean_ , exactly? A broken arm? But Quatre had grabbed his chest. That was a deadly area.

So how was Heero calling out for him?

A loud thud and bang sounded, and some practically comatose part of his brain managed to label the sound as the back door of the ambulance opening.

Weren't they moving?

“Duo!”

He turned his head, but it was all he could do. Shouts rose all around him. Bodies moved.

“Get out of my way or get shot!” Silence spread around Duo until he could finally hear his brain, sluggishly chugging. He thought about holding his breath, but he couldn't be bothered.

“Heero,” Duo murmured.

“Duo.” He heard footsteps, then felt something touch his hair. The touch was feather-light, almost not even there. “Well? Are you going to treat him or what?”

“Sir, we–”

“I'm a P.I. I'm going with you to the hospital.”

Heero was beside him. He needed to open his eyes and _see_. “How bad?” His voice was breathy, light. Almost too low to be a whisper.

But Heero heard. “Dermail's dead. He fell off the roof.”

If he'd had the strength, he would have rolled his eyes. “Don't give a fuck,” he breathed. “You. How bad?”

The bastard didn't answer for forever. Then, “I suppose Wufei thought it would keep you awake to tell you I was badly injured. I wasn't.”

He tried to tug on his straps, but he couldn't fucking _move_. And no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't open his eyes. “Chest,” he managed.

“Quatre had procured vests for us. It caught the bullet. I have a bad bruise, but that's it.”

Vest? Duo thought he felt those hands return. He tried to jerk and panicked. A loud, grating beeping pounded through the fog into his skull. He winced. This time when he tried to talk, his lips didn't move.

He wanted to talk to Heero. He wanted to see Heero. He wanted to be able to _think!_

“I'll be here when you wake up. Duo, I'm…”

He struggled to stay in focus, to stay conscious, but finally the drug was just too much. Too much...

The fog surrounded his mind and encased him within.


	32. Somewhere I Belong

Alive.

There wasn't any possible way. How could there ever be a way that Treize had survived? The man had taken a bullet to the chest. Wufei had  _seen_  it. He'd shot the man himself.

He'd  _died_.

Yet despite that fact, when the medics had arrived, he'd pointed to Maxwell and told them his injuries and two had moved behind him and…

Wufei shut his eyes and grimaced as the beeping of the heart monitor continued. Those two medics had called out that Treize was alive and that… that he had to be taken in immediately. And Maxwell, still awake because Wufei had chosen to tell him that Heero was “bleeding badly,” Maxwell had been conscious enough to tell him to go with Treize's body to the ambulance.

He hadn't believed the two medics' words until Treize had been hooked up to the heart monitor and he'd heard the beeping. The beeping he'd been hearing since. He wasn't a cop, and he wasn't related to Treize, but dawn had broken across the sky before they'd even gotten to the hospital. By the time he'd been looked over and bandaged up, visiting hours had begun. He'd simply waited – for hours – to hear about the results of the surgery. Treize'd gotten out only a short while ago, and Wufei had fought like hell to get into the room. He'd flashed his P.I. Badge enough times to give himself carpal tunnel, but it didn't hold the weight of a police badge.

He'd only managed to get in by naming Treize as his lover and begging.

It was humiliating, but it was a necessary sacrifice.

He leaned over and brushed Treize's hair from his face. The bullet had missed its intended target. The doctors said it'd punctured a lung. That he'd missed the heart by less than a centimeter.

Wufei couldn't understand how. How had he missed? They'd been right in front of one another. Had Treize managed to move out of the way? Had Duo's proximity strained his focus? Or... had he missed simply because it was Treize's heart that he'd fallen in love with?

That sounded… corny.

“Treize. How are you still alive?” Wufei leaned onto the bed railing and placed his forehead against the cool metal. It shouldn't be possible. It shouldn't.

But despite what Treize had done, he couldn't help but be grateful for that beeping.

* * *

Duo was still in surgery.

Heero's hands were clasped and pressed against his forehead. He couldn't close his eyes for seeing something more horrifying than the white blah of the walls and the generic blue waiting chairs. He wanted to stare at the hugely obese lady with a pink tank top far too small far more than the look of Duo lying in that ambulance, unconscious and continuing to bleed despite the frantic work of the medics…

Heero remembered watching them scrape the chunk of dead skin from Duo's cheek and shuddered.

Damn this room. Damn Romefeller. Damn Dermail.

He sat like a fool while the man he'd finally admitted he loved was... maybe dying. Probably dying.

Duo was dying.

Heero stood, only to sit again when that woman turned and looked at him. Was that a curler in her hair?

But he wouldn't judge that much. He very much understood the need to be here, to rush, to hurry to the hospital.

Gods. Duo was still in surgery and he had no idea… no idea…

* * *

“I'm okay, I swear.”

Trowa nodded, but he didn't move from beside Quatre. They were in the hospital, in the makeshift cathedral near the back. Every once in a while Quatre would shake or gasp, drawing the attention of the couple on the far left. Trowa hovered by Quatre's side as he sat on the opposite side. The young blond would send the couple a furtive glance every once in a while, his eyes sad. But he always turned back to the front.

“I wonder if God and Allah are the same,” the blond said.

Trowa quirked an eyebrow at the statement. “You're trying to ease the conversation into safer territory, Quatre Raberba Winner.”

The blond just smiled. “Did it work?”

Trowa nudged Quatre in the arm and shook his head. “No. How's Duo? And Khushrenada?”

“Their both still alive. Treize is too drugged for me to read. But even though Duo's drugged, too, there's more than enough pain in him to slip into his subconscious awareness.”

Trowa didn't understand, but he nodded anyway. “They're both alive.”

“Yes.” But Quatre didn't look relieved in the least. “And Wufei is next to Treize, so he finally succeeded.” Quatre raked a hand through his hair. He moved his thumb to his teeth, but dropped it before he bit in. “And Heero's far away from Duo. I think he's probably still in surgery.”

Quatre clasped his hands as if to pray, but he only rested them against his temple. “I don't know if he's going to be all right. I can't tell.”

“We'll wait and see.” Trowa put a hand on Quatre's shoulder, offering as much comfort as he could. “But Duo is smart and strong, and he has a healthy body. Couple that with his survival training gained through life on the streets... I'd say he has a higher chance than most.”

Quatre nodded. “I know. Consciously, I know. But...” And the blond shuddered again, wincing against the reflection of pain that swam through his extra sense. Trowa gripped his shoulder for support.

“…I know.”

* * *

The doctors worked on Duo until the day was almost over, setting six broken bones – three ribs, one leg, one arm, and one finger – and stopping the bleeding that just never seemed to end. Heero heard some other doctor babble, but it all amounted to two very important things:

One: Duo was alive, but in such critical condition that the probability of him ever waking up was slim.

And two: he couldn't see Duo until he was out of critical condition.

Heero was going to go mad.

The last time he'd seen Duo was on that damn ambulance, and Duo had fallen to the morphine gas almost as soon as he'd arrived. He'd had to watch the man breathe and just hope for the best. And if that hadn't been painful enough – sitting beside that still corpse of a body and touching the man in the few places he'd dared – now he had to be completely removed from his side, unable to at least speak to him in the vain hope that Duo would hear.

There was absolutely nothing he could do for Duo except wait.

And in another hour, he would be waiting at his house. The house, he remembered with a small little smile, that was being repaired. Hellfire.

Duo.

* * *

It was so fucking painful to wake up that Duo almost decided to go straight back to sleep. He was lying on his stomach and his head was sticking straight down, but he could breathe. His cheeks hurt. His back hurt. His gut hurt. His entire damn body hurt.

He vaguely remembered the pain's origin, but it was dulled with age and the agony of today seemed to be more important.

Where was Heero?

Duo felt a shimmer of panic as if through a fog. He remembered Heero's voice. He'd been in the ambulance, and Heero…

Where the fuck was Heero?

Had the fool been injured? Was that why he'd been in the ambulance? He couldn't really remember. He shifted in the bed but stopped at the popping fireworks of pain in his shoulder and mid-back. Okay, so moving might not be the most brilliant move ever.

He heard the sound of footsteps and tensed. He was stuck with his face down, unable to see who was coming.

“Mr. Maxwell? We heard your change in heart rate. My name is Dr. Halloway. I'm very sorry we can't look at each other, but you have severe injuries on your face and back. We've had to place you in this position every few hours in order for your body to begin healing, though I'm afraid it does put pressure on your ribs.”

Doctor, huh? Duo didn't believe it. He couldn't see shit, and this bastard doctor was using his injuries as an excuse.

“Can you hear me?” the Halloway creep asked.

“I can hear you.” Duo winced after he spoke; when the doc dude said it put pressure on his ribs, he hadn't been fucking kidding.

“Good.” And then the doctor came over and started touching him.

Duo wanted to beat the bastard to a pulp, but simply moving to breathe was bringing a shimmering of discomfort. And the doctor kept asking him stupid questions as he touched Duo's back – how do you feel? Do you remember what happened to you? Any irritation from the casts? Duo hadn't even realized he was wearing casts until the subject was brought up. Then he felt them – his right arm, his right leg. He moved his body as prompted and found he couldn't clench his entire left hand into a fist. There was a finger cast there, too, on his pointer.

“Where's the others?” Duo asked finally, having had just about enough of the 'doctor's' administrations. “Where're my partners?”

The doctor hummed. “I thought you would ask about them eventually. They sustained fairly minor injuries, especially for the size of the facility you all took out. I heard about it on the news, you know. Very strange to be treating a sort of celebrity.” Finally the man took his hands away. “You've been in Intensive Care for quite a while now – almost a week. The last of your friends was released two days ago. He had a few gunshot wounds, I'd heard.” He heard the scratching sounds of pen on paper.

“What was his name?”

“I don't know; I wasn't his doctor.” Some more sounds, and then a few footsteps. Duo grimaced. He wouldn't even know the man had a knife until it was in his back. “But all the girls would flock to him. A really nice guy, they said.” The 'doctor' had the conspiratorial tone of a man thwarted.

“Nice guy? Probably Qat.” Duo closed his eyes. So Quatre had gotten shot. He remembered Quatre coming to his aid near the end, but he hadn't been able to focus too hard – had Quatre been bleeding?

“A cat?”

But another thought had occurred, and Duo didn't hear Halloway's question. “Treize.” He shifted a bit and winced. “How about Treize? Treize Khushrenada?”

“Are you experiencing any pain? We can give you more medicine for that–”

“ _Treize_ , doc. What happened to Treize?”

“I think it best if you don't worry about that right now. Just focus on your own recovery.” The doctor was walking around again, but no matter how far to the right or left Duo looked, all he could see was the linoleum floor.

“What the hell does that mean?!” Trying to move was painful as shit, but he managed to get his hands in a position on the bed to lift him up.

“Whoa! Mr. Maxwell, please stay calm. Khushrenada is still alive, but he has yet to awaken. All right?”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Duo tried to push up, but his arms buckled. He gasped for breath and felt the electric shock through his nerves. Shit.

“Mr. Maxwell, calm down.” Duo knew the bastard was requesting help somehow and tried again to get up. Fuck, his ribs felt like they were spilling poisonous gas into his system.

“Get Heero,” Duo said, thinking on instinct. “Get Heero Yuy.  _He'll_  fucking tell me the truth.”

More footsteps were hurrying over to him. “Mr. Maxwell–”

“I was being more than cooperative, you son of a bitch,” he snarled. There was a needle poking through his arm, he saw, finally turning his head to the side. It led to an IV drip, and the bastard doctor was putting something in there. The bastard doctor was short, too, with a bright thatch of red hair and a battalion of freckles on his face.

Then there were nurses everywhere, grabbing his arms and his good shoulder and putting him back down, holding him even as he cursed and struggled.

“At least put me on my back!” Duo tugged against the nurses' hold and felt his bad shoulder go up in flames. “How the fuck am I supposed to trust people I can't see?”

“Mr. Maxwell,” the Halloway bitch started.

“Get Heero!” Duo felt himself weakening. “Get fucking Heero Yuy, you shitlicker!”

One nurse actually giggled at the insult. “We'll get him,” the same woman promised.

“Just what the hell is going on in here?” It was a new voice, and with his body pressed back down into the damn bed, Duo couldn't see the visitor. He pulled against the hands, but his efforts were pathetic at best. His eyes drooped.

Duo heard Halloway start whispering, but a nurse beside him was talking to him, asking him what had happened. She didn't sound dangerous, even though she was holding his left arm down. “Bastard,” Duo told her. “That guy's a bastard.”

And he heard that new voice railing, and though it made him want to tense, he didn't. “Hey, nice nurse,” Duo said suddenly, “get Heero Yuy.”

“As soon as we move you out of ICU,” she promised, and though he didn't believe her for more than a second, it was enough for the drugs to slip in and steal his consciousness.

* * *

Heero came in just as visiting hours began, as usual. It had been a week, a long, stressful week. But Duo was supposedly on the mend, and the doctors believed he would be waking up soon. For whatever that was worth.

He was lucky. Luckier than Wufei, at any rate, though it seemed immoral to think such a thing. Treize's prospects weren't so good. His operation had been successful, but the doctors said Treize should have woken up by now. If he didn't soon, chances were he never would. Compared to that, Heero was damn lucky. It was on him if he didn't feel lucky.

It was when he was signing in that the nurse behind the counter stood and grabbed his hand. He wrenched it free automatically, eyes narrowed, but the woman was just smiling at him. “You're here for Mr. Maxwell.”

She was still smiling, but somehow her words put him on alert. “Yes. What happened?”

“Oh, this is – here, come with me.” And the woman came around the reception desk and grabbed his hand again. “Doctor Halloway was the doctor put in charge of your friend. We were told you were all P.I.'s, but Halloway didn't take it too seriously, not like trained soldiers. But we didn't know we should, you know?” She pulled him down the halls.

All this was only making Heero's gut churn. “What are you saying?”

“Oh, I'm sorry. It's just – I'd never seen it before. The reaction. Mr. Maxwell's injuries are very serious; we didn't think he'd be able to really move once he woke up. But Doctor Halloway did something – Doctor Po said Halloway had projected himself as a potential enemy, and Mr. Maxwell reacted offensively.”

The churning turned into clenching. The woman led him to the elevator and jammed the button for Duo's floor. “He attacked,” Heero said as if stating a fact.

“No, actually, but he did try. He was on his stomach at the time – Doctor Po says that contributed to his aggression, not being able to see.” Heero stared at the elevator door. “He tried to get up, though. We had to restrain him. It opened the wounds on his shoulder.”

At that, Heero's stomach plummeted. “What the hell did that doctor do?”

She jammed the floor button again, even though the elevator was already moving. Her foot tapped a quick beat on the floor. “All he did was refuse to answer a question.”

“Allies don't hide information,” Heero said. No wonder Duo had reacted badly, injured and on his stomach, unable to see the man. Heero should have been there. If he'd still been a cop, he could have used his badge to stay by Duo's side. Then he  _would_  have been there.

As soon as the elevator stopped and the doors opened, Heero was in the hall. Duo's room was just past the right turn down the hall, past the nurse's station. There were four nurses inside the station, and two seemed rather relieved to see him pass.

Duo was on his back when Heero burst in, tucked into his sheets. His eyes were closed.

Heero raked a hand through his hair and dragged a chair to sit beside Duo's bed. In his rush to get to Duo, he'd neglected to ask when this had happened. Obviously it was during the night, after visiting hours. He wished he could've been there.

“Duo?” He touched Duo's right hand, just inches below the cast. Duo had tried to get up with this arm. What an idiot.

Footsteps made Heero drop his hand and turn to the door. A woman was entering, one with business pumps and a doctor's coat. Heero glared. “Halloway?”

“No. My name is Doctor Sally Po. I've taken over for Halloway concerning our dear Mr. Maxwell here.” She nodded to Duo's sleeping form. “I take it you're Yuy.”

Heero didn't bother to answer. “When did this happen?”

“Three-thirty this morning,” the woman answered promptly, moving over to look at Duo's clipboard. Her hair, caught in two croquette-like pigtails, hung from her shoulders. “We gave him a sedative, but he should come out of it soon enough. Do you need anything?”

“Privacy.”

She straightened and shrugged. “Of course. Ring the buzzer if you need someone.”

“I won't.”

She just sighed and walked out.

Heero waited for her footsteps to blend in with the distant sounds of talking before touching Duo's hand again. Duo's brows were just slightly furrowed, and his mouth was tilted into a frown. It looked like Duo hadn't been too thrilled when he fell asleep, either.

The only question left was how long it would take for Duo to wake up again. Considering his welcome party, he probably wouldn't be thrilled with the idea of being conscious.

“Duo. I'm here.” As if Duo could hear his words. As if that could make him wake up.

He hung his head, even as he rubbed Duo's knuckles. It sounded ridiculous. It was implausible. But if it worked, he didn't care. “I'm here,” he said again, and waited.

* * *

Wufei grabbed a coffee from the waiting room as soon as he entered the hospital and gulped down the sludge until his tongue burned numb.

Treize wasn't waking up.

It was his fault, of course; he'd shot the man. Yet now the guilt was morphing to something else. Though he went to Treize every day, he never spoke. What could he say? Treize had been using them all since before they'd joined the force. Since before Wufei had known who he was. Their courtship – if that was what it could be called – had been a farce. Or at least part of it had been.

What could he say to the man he'd shot? Wufei didn't even know if the words “I love you” would be true. He had loved Treize, but even before all of this, he'd broken up with the man, and it was precisely because of his domineering attitude and abstract view of the world – his belief that only the results mattered.

He threw the Styrofoam cup into the trash and moved to the elevator. To Maxwell's room.

He tapped the floor button and held the door for a teenage man. Both stood on opposite ends of the elevator and ignored the other's existence.

The man got off on the second floor, and Wufei the third. He didn't pay attention to where he went, only moved with habit down the halls, only stopping when he heard a child's voice inside the room Duo was supposedly in. Wufei didn't recognize any voices. And Yuy had a habit of sitting next to Maxwell from opening hours to closing.

He hesitated, then went back down the hall to the nurse's station. “Excuse me.”

A man stopped looking through some files beside the computer and looked up. “Yes?”

Wufei leaned on the counter and glanced at the file. He didn't recognize the name. Good. “Where is Duo Maxwell being kept?”

“Maxwell? Oh, the one with the braid.” Wufei smirked. Of course the nurses would remember Maxwell by his hair. Apparently the women had found it cute, while the men had found it work. “He's been sent to the second floor. He woke up late last night.”

Suddenly Wufei was standing ramrod straight. “Maxwell woke up? Where? What room?”

The man thought for a moment as Wufei tapped his foot, but he shook his head. “I'm sorry, I can't remember. You'll have to ask the nurses on the second floor.”

With a tsk, Wufei left the man and hurried to Maxwell's room.

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the burning sunlight. He winced against it, then turned his head to the opposite side. He could barely see the door behind a curtain, but a chair sat lonely in the corner of the room. He turned his head again, but there was no one. He smiled.

“Is this your answer, Wufei?”


	33. No More Sorrow

Zechs looked up at the gray slab of concrete that made up his ceiling and smiled. The cot beneath him was hard, and springs were poking into his back and butt. He crossed his arms behind his head and tried to readjust to a more comfortable position. He failed.

Treize might be dead, but his efforts weren't. Those five little shits were better than he'd thought they'd be. Though Treize had said they could handle it, he hadn't believed him. Treize truly had ushered in those who would bring in a new world. And to think he'd believed Treize to have finally lost his mind. In the end, his involvement had been more of a hindrance than a help.

Ah, well. He'd known from the start that he had no place in the future. Treize must have realized the same – that's why he'd made himself an enemy of those men.

“We're quite a bunch,” he said, and grinned.

It didn't matter. Those five could take care of themselves.

“I would've liked to truly fight that man, though,” he mused belatedly.

* * *

“Duo?”

Duo's eyes were fluttering, and his fingers were squeezing slightly against his. Heero refused to call for the nurses or doctor for Duo's movements and simply waited, running a finger over Duo's forehead and whispering his name. Duo's fingers clenched and trembled in his hand. He wrapped his own around those fingers and called again.

And on a cry, Duo shot up in the bed and wrenched his hand free.

He reached for the IV and had the drip in his left hand, his pointer finger staying straight as a flagpole while the others wrapped around the tube, before Heero could grab his wrist and curl his other hand around Duo's head. He leaned in and kissed Duo's forehead, right on a fading bruise. “Duo, it's me. Heero. The doctors aren't here.”

“Heero.” And like that Duo let go of the tube, turned in the bed and whacked Heero with his arm cast. Heero was forced to let go of Duo. “What the hell? Where were you?! And are you okay?”

Heero held the side of his head and glared. “How the hell can I be okay? You hit me in the head!” Then he looked at Duo's face and saw the creases on Duo's brow and the pinched, thin line of Duo's lips. He was in pain.

Well, of course he was. The fool was sitting up on his butt, using his hands and arms for balance, and all he was dealing with was three broken ribs, a broken arm, a broken finger, an outrageous amount of abrasions and lacerations and…

“Duo, you have to lie down.”

“You were in the ambulance with me.” Duo didn't lie back down so much as simply become defeated by gravity. Heero held a hand on Duo's neck and placed another one at the bottom of Duo's back, trying to avoid the worst of the injuries. But the fall wasn't too graceful and the weight Heero pressed on those two spots made Duo hiss and groan and when he landed, his cry was choked and sharp.

“I was in the ambulance,” Heero said, quickly removing his hands and moving Duo's hair, hair he himself had tied back into its braid during the short drugged hour Duo had been on his stomach, from below him to his side. Duo reached out with his left hand and traced the tail of hair. His violet eyes were wide when they turned back to Heero. “I'm all right. I had minor injuries. I was only in that damn ambulance because I needed to see you.”

“You were hurt. Critical…”

“No.” Heero searched Duo's eyes. Did he not remember their conversation in the ambulance? “It was a lie.”

Duo groaned and turned away. “Either you're a bastard or 'Fei's a bastard.” Then his eyes snapped open. “The bastard – that Halloway fucker. He didn't tell me about Treize. He said I should worry about it later.”

“Yes. Because he's a fucker, too.” Heero smiled and raised Duo's hand. “Treize came out of surgery, but he hasn't woken up yet. If he doesn't soon, he may not ever.”

Duo raised his free hand and covered Heero's. He winced a bit as the weight of his arm settled on his stomach, but he refused to move it. “'Fei?”

“You can imagine.”

Duo nodded only a little. “How bad am I?”

“Bad.” Heero looked into Duo's eyes. They were clear again, no longer that terrifying dead look. His back had needed some slight grafting, as had his shoulder. But his cheeks were slightly scarred from whatever had been used on Duo's back, and there was line after red line against the old pale of Duo's back. A large round spot on his shoulder was evidence of a bullet wound. And Heero didn't want to count the multiple bruises on Duo's skin. A few had started to die, like the one on Duo's forehead, but more had only blossomed in the past week.

And all of that was only on the surface.

Duo chuckled, though he stopped quickly enough. He hissed in a shallow breath and refused to breathe. “That hurt,” he said after a short minute, and hissed in another shallow breath. “'Fei needs a friend.”

“He has four.” Heero looked Duo over, but for the life of him he couldn't tell what was hurting and what was simply making him uncomfortable. “Duo, I'm calling to call for the doctor.”

“I'll kill him,” Duo said with a snarl. He watched Heero reach over and press the buzzer and scratched the back of Heero's hand. “And if you leave this room while that bastard is in here, I'll kill you, too.”

“Kill me?” And Heero flashed Duo a too-bright smile. “I thought you were finally going to confess face-to-face.”

Duo scowled. “No fucking way.”

It kind've hurt, in a vulnerable way. But Heero got it once and he was going to get it again. “I told you I expected it the next time we met. I let it go before because you were dying. You aren't anymore.”

Duo gave him a droll look.

“Duo, I'm serious. I have been wracked with fear this entire time, and I don't even know how concerned about me you'd be if you'd be on my end.”

Heero saw the answer right then, but he didn't show his emotions like Duo just had, with his eyes squinting and his throat clenching and Duo would definitely be just as scared as he'd been.

“You're being an ass.”

Heero leaned over and pressed the buzzer again. Where the hell was that woman?

“Don't you fucking hurry that bastard into this room!” Duo reached up and gasped. His hand fell back to the bed with a slight bounce. “Ow.”

“Idiot; of course they got rid of that fool when you went psycho on them.” Heero touched Duo's arm, careful of the defensive bruises all over the skin. His entire body was brown and blue. “They realized he had no idea what he was doing and brought in somebody who did.”

Duo winced and breathed heavily and winced again. “You could've told me that before, you know, just now.”

“Duo, please.” Heero played the dirty hand and leaned over Duo's battered form. He didn't want to keep seeing the bruises and the cuts and the scars. He didn't want to remember the days coming into the hospital and sitting like a fool beside a still body that looked like it couldn't possibly be breathing. He didn't want to recall all the blood and the fear that had clenched so tight around him he didn't think he could ever breathe normally again.

He wanted confirmation of the future. A future _he_ had created with his own hands. A future he would never think of as a mistake.

“Duo.”

Duo looked at him with his purple eyes wide and unblinking. And then he glared. “That's a low blow, private investigator.”

“Hey.” Heero smiled. “Whatever gets me answers.”

Duo stuck his tongue out at him, then winced again. “Jesus, is there anything that doesn't hurt?”

The words made Heero's smile dim. “I love you, Duo Maxwell. Even though you're a pain in my ass.”

Duo grinned, then winced, then apparently said the hell with it and grinned again. “Heero, if you think I'm a pain in the ass, imagine having some fucking copperhead stalking your every goddamn move and then, when you think there might be a chance in hell of the two of you actually getting along, having the same said copperhead threaten you to admit your feelings for him.” Duo's breath was definitely heavy, and it was getting faster and faster. With a snarl, Heero looked away and leaned against the buzzer hard enough to break it.

“I love you, Heero Yuy.”

Heero looked down at Duo, but all he could see from his angle was the top of Duo's head and his bangs. He pushed away from the buzzer and looked down. Duo's eyes were on his feet underneath the cover, but a smile flitted along his lips.

“Duo?”

“What, I have to say it again?” And Duo sent him a baleful look that was defeated by his grin. “I love you, you stubborn, annoying, insufferable mother-”

Heero leaned down and gently kissed Duo.

When he leaned up, Duo was glaring at him. He felt a painful stab in his chest. “Hey, jackass, what the hell was that? I'll have you know that my lips don't fucking hurt and if you don't actually kiss me I swear to God I will–”

But Heero cut him off again.

It was electrifying and painful and scary and annoying, all at once. The thunder and lightning of it made Heero shiver, and with it was such a relief, such a gratefulness, that he thought his knees would give from underneath him. It was like a ring of thorns had curled around his heart and chest and now it was being taken out. Duo was alive. He was alive and he was _his_.

And then the emotions finally gave his brain room to breathe and he realized just how tenuous this was. Love was a fluctuating thing, built through controversy and ready to die at a moment's notice. And their love was young and Duo was in so much pain. What if things changed?

What if he moved right now and hurt Duo somehow?

Duo reached up with his casted arm and pulled Heero closer. “Fucking _kiss_ me, pansy.”

Heero laughed then and did as told.

And dammit, he couldn't touch Duo like he wanted because there was no place that wouldn't turn pleasure to pain.

“ _Now_ may I fucking enter?” Doctor Po charged into the room, and they pulled apart as if tugged by the ear. Po looked down on them with eyebrows pulled in anger. “You! Mr. Maxwell! Just what the hell do you think you're doing?”

Duo raised his casted arm and flipped her the bird. “Earning my damn reward. Who the hell are you?”

“I'm your damn doctor, so you'd better cooperate.” Po looked at Duo's charts, then went over and looked at the heart monitor. “Hm. This is great. Just great. Your damn heart rate's up. And no, smartasses, it's not just because of the kiss.”

She moved around them and moved to grab something. Heero watched. “It's the painkillers I think they're too low. He's been wincing every time he moves.”

“Yes. He needs to be doped up. And now that you've had your moment, you won't get in my way, will you?”

It wasn't a question, but Heero nodded, anyway.

“Good.”

Duo sent Heero a dirty look. “Traitor.”

Heero just leaned over and kissed Duo on the forehead. “I'll be here when you wake up... as long as you wake up during visiting hours.”

Duo scowled. “What the hell's that mean?” Po went to Duo's drip and added in the morphine. “Hey! I don't want that shit! It gets me dizzy and I get a headache and I _hate_ that shit.”

“Well, Mr. Maxwell, I would prefer it if you healed, so your minor complaints will be cataloged and consequently ignored.” She smiled at him. “The good news is that over time, you should make a good recovery. And other than a number of battle scars, you should be just fine.”

“Battle scars?” Duo's eyes widened at that. “Yuy, you said I looked bad. You didn't say I was a... a Munster!”

“You're alive, Duo Maxwell.” Heero bent down until Duo's eyes started turning from two to one. “I don't give a fuck how many scars that bastard gave you other than the fact that he _hurt you_. Got it?”

Duo leaned up and grabbed Heero's bottom lip in his mouth. Heero made a startled sound in the base of his throat. How the hell could Duo do that right in front of Po? “I'm not turning into a girl, Yuy. But goddamn it, I very well recall that bastard getting me in the face. I'll have scars on my face, Yuy.”

Heero wanted to touch, but he didn't know where. And his lip was starting to hurt. “Duo.” He pointed to his mouth.

Duo licked.

Po sighed. “Right. I can see how very necessary my existence here is, so I'll just be heading out. Press the damn button again if you need me, but I won't be polite next time, I don't care what bodyguard you use.” And she flipped them off and left.

Duo let go finally and grinned with triumph. “She's gone.”

“And you're drugged. You'll be out in a few.” And Heero ghosted a hand over Duo's cheek. The bandages had come off two days before, when the wounds had thankfully healed cleanly. “Duo.” He took a deep breath. “Yes, you will likely have permanent scars. And yes, they aren't exactly beautiful. But goddammit, I could've lost you.”

Duo blinked. “Are _you_ becoming a girl?”

Heero ground his teeth together. And laughed. “Then what the fuck is your problem?”

Duo grimaced. “Are you kidding me? How the hell are the chicks gonna dig me now?”

“Duo, I swear to God, I'm going to hurt you.”

“Seriously, how fucking bad is it?” He reached up to touch his face, but Heero blocked him off at the pass.

“Duo, you can't touch it right now. It's really, really wouldn't be a good idea.”

Duo sighed and gave up, letting Heero place his hand back down on the bed. “Heero.” He looked away. “I really am kind've ugly now, aren't I?”

Heero looked down at the angry red welts on Duo's face and smiled. “You always were.”

“Hey!” Duo turned on him.

“But I don't really think it's ugliness I see here.” Duo wanted to keep his angry look, Heero could tell, but his eyes were starting to droop. “I still see your eyes, with the fire I'd thought they'd lost when I found you in that room. I see strength and endurance. And if you're that concerned with your looks, girly-boy, then we can get surgery.”

Those eyes drooped even lower. Duo frowned. “That'd be expensive.”

“Duo, my foster father was rich, and I was his only child. I can afford it.”

That made Duo frown even more. His eyes closed. “It's your money.”

His breath was evening out, and the heart monitor was finally steady. Heero ran his hands over Duo's fingers, over his forehead, along the line of his hair, anywhere that didn't look like it had been bludgeoned with a two-by-four. “And as the spoiled owner of said money, I get to do with it what I wish.”

Duo managed to scowl. “Smartass.”

Heero laughed again. His chest felt lighter than it had a week before. Lighter than it ever had in his life. “Get some rest, idiot.”

Duo might have been about to say something, but he only hummed and slipped away.

* * *

Wufei leaned against the wall and smiled. A happy ending for the fools.

He'd been right to stop the doctor from getting in there.

He looked to the floor. What more was there for him to do? Maxwell was going to be okay, and Yuy, despite his rather obnoxious callousness, had managed to gain a companion.

And himself?

A lock fell into his face. He pulled it back, only to have it fall straight in front of him again. He huffed and let it stay. He would have to deal with the idea of never seeing Treize wake up.

He pushed away from the door and made to walk away.

“Thank you, Wufei.”

He stopped at Heero's words and turned. His friend sat in the chair again, his eyes resting on Duo's still form. “You knew?”

“Doctor Po mentioned a bodyguard. I thought it would be you.”

Wufei shook his head. “It could have been Barton.” He held a hand against the doorjamb and looked at his friends. Yuy seemed much more relaxed than he'd been recently, with his hands on his knees and his eyes no longer narrowed in fear.

Maxwell still looked like hell, of course.

Heero snorted at his comment. “You and I both know Trowa hasn't been away from Quatre, and Quatre looks nothing like a bodyguard.”

The thought of Winner as a bodyguard may not seem likely, but Wufei knew better. “True.” Duo really looked bad, and there certainly would be permanent damage. His friend truly seemed upset about it. Narcissism? The thought made his smile. If Maxwell ever heard the word, Wufei would be skinned alive. “How is he?”

Yuy shifted in his seat and frowned. “Well enough, I suppose.” He turned to Wufei. “You heard us before, right?”

Wufei knew immediately what Yuy was speaking of. “Yes. I am honored.”

“'Fei needs friends.”

“He has four.”

“Just remember it.” And Yuy turned away from him again.

Wufei nodded, bowing slightly. They were both very poor at speaking their emotions, and he supposed Yuy was about tired out with his confession to Maxwell. “Thank you.”

He left Yuy alone with Maxwell then and returned to the elevator. Treize was on the ground floor, on the left side of the building, in an almost forgotten sector where the sleeping may remain in their dreams for as long as their families can pay. It took another few minutes to get there, and Wufei found he needed another cup of sludge in order to face that prone form.

He headed down the hall and watched as the lights grew dimmer and dimmer, until it seemed like dusk inside the building. As if attempting to assist the patients' rest. As if telling them it would be inappropriate to awaken.

All right. That sounded ridiculous. The truth was that he was more and more afraid with every day that passed. It made no damn sense, since he had already broken up with Treize...

He sipped his coffee and stopped in the middle of the hall. He knew Maxwell wouldn't tell, but the truth was that he'd cried when he'd heard that Treize was still alive. And Maxwell had told him to go with Treize, even though Maxwell himself was to go to the hospital all alone.

Had Maxwell been telling him something then?

He sipped again and continued walking. Or maybe he was giving Maxwell far too much credit.

He almost entered the room before he recognized the sound of movement and stopped. It had to be a nurse. It had to be a nurse.

His heart hammered. But what if it wasn't?

His feet moved before the rest of him knew he was going to. He crossed that threshold and grabbed the jamb of the door and stood still as his coffee cup dropped from his hand.

The sound of the crash made Treize turn.

“Wufei?”

Wufei moved from the door without thinking. Treize was covered in bandages along his torso, and a few more were scattered over various parts of his anatomy. “Get the fuck on the bed, Khushrenada.”

“Wufei. I didn't think…” Treize staggered. One hand reached out and grabbed the side of the bed.

“What the hell is it with everyone? First Maxwell and now you. Can't you fools stay put in your damn beds?” Wufei turned to the heart monitor. The beats were still perfectly calm. But when he looked, he saw the pulse line lying on the bed. He glared at Treize. “What did you do to the machine?”

Treize shrugged and grabbed at his IV. It, at least, was still in the man's arm. That meant the fool hadn't been out of bed for too long. Though it was most likely the last thing to be taken out simply for the painkillers. The fool should be in agony.

Wufei grabbed Treize's wrists. “Don't you dare.”

“I am the Chief of Department now, Chang Wufei. I am checking myself out.”

“The hell you are!” But Treize managed to pull his wrists away and ripped out his IV. He stumbled back and fell with a thump against the wall. His hair fell forward, tangled slightly for once. His eyes were glassy.

Wufei's heart jumped.

“Fool!” He snatched Treize's shoulders and steered him to the bed. Treize's hand was creeping up, but it was clutching the bandages on his chest and the fingers were trembling. This time Treize didn't do anything to stop him and fell onto the bed. Wufei barely managed to keep his own balance. “Someone get in here!” Wufei shouted, but he didn't know if anyone heard. They were far away from the nurse's station. Too far. He glared at the monitor. It still beeped steadily, like the beat of a drum. A very high-pitched drum.

“Wufei,” Treize said, and he was gasping now, “what are you doing here?”

How could he possibly answer that question when he'd been wondering the same this whole time? “Just get on the fucking bed, Treize. The bullet – _my_ bullet pierced you right beside your heart. Your body is still too weak for this sort of shit.”

Wufei tried to lead Treize gently back to the bed, but the man placed a hand on Wufei's chest. Treize's eyes were narrowed. “I asked you a question, Wufei.”

“And I do not deign to answer,” Wufei gritted out. He grabbed Treize's imperious hand and lifted his chin. “The fact remains that I am here. You will have to live with only that as compensation.”

But disturbingly enough, Wufei's words made Treize smile. “Is this your answer, then?”

Wufei glared. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Treize's legs wrapped around Wufei and pulled him forward. With Treize only garbed in a pair of hospital shorts, easily removed and replaced by the staff, Wufei was far too aware of proximity and anatomy. But Treize wasn't ready; he was panting and his eyebrows were drawn and absolutely nothing was standing at attention. But those eyes were as penetrating as always. “If you don't know, Chang Wufei, you aren't as brilliant as I thought.”

Wufei wrapped his hands around Treize's thighs. And gulped. Shit. “You are a murderer and a traitor. I want nothing to do with you.”

“I was undercover.” Treize was smiling. “And if you want nothing to do with me, then why are you here?”

Wufei forcefully retracted Treize's legs from around him. It was the first time he'd ever been able to get away from Treize once caught. Treize truly was weak now. “Put whatever spin on your work you choose, it doesn't change what you've done. And I'm here because no one else is.”

“You don't need to be, either.”

“Do you want me to leave, then?!” Wufei pushed Treize's legs onto the bed and straightened the man out.

Treize was sad.

It was such a sudden thing, to look up into Treize's face and see the pinched sorrow in his lips and eyes. It made Wufei's heart thrum.

“No, Wufei. I do not want you to leave.”

This was too painful. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It was never supposed to end like this. “Then what the hell _do_ you want?”

Treize shook his head. “If it does not exist, then I don't want it.” His eyes closed. His breath was starting to calm again. Wufei left his side to go to the monitor. The damn thing was _still_ beeping as if Treize still slept. “Why didn't you kill me, Wufei?”

Wufei clenched his teeth. Another question he couldn't answer. “What did you do to this thing?” he asked instead, gesturing to the heart monitor.

“I hacked into it, of course. Your Duo Maxwell is very good, but even I can do such a simple thing.” Treize gestured to the back. “The thing records. I simply played a loop.”

Wufei searched the back. Indeed, there was a panel loose, and something computer-ish dangled. Wufei grabbed it and ripped. Finally the heart monitor flatlined.

It made his heart jump again.

Wufei turned to Treize on instinct, watching the man's resting face and shallow breaths. An irrational fear pulled at him. He hadn't known the monitor was somehow comforting. Treize opened an eye and searched his face before smiling gently. The eye slipped closed once more.

“I don't know why you're alive,” Wufei said, returning to Treize's side. Somehow he was desperate for Treize to speak, to show he was alive. He heard footsteps down the hall. “I don't know why I didn't kill you. I don't even know why I'm here. I _hate_ you,” he said, and his hands moved to grip the bars of Treize's bed. His knuckles turned white. “I hate what you do, what you believe. I cannot accept what you have done to all of us!”

Treize smiled. “And I do not think you should.”

Wufei leaned into Treize's face. “Then what?!”

But Treize only shook his head. “We have both survived. Is that not enough?”

“Enough for what?!” Wufei shook his head and pushed away. The damn bang was in his face again. He pushed it away and whirled back to Treize. “I don't understand you. What the hell do you want from me?!”

But Treize was relaxing on the bed like he hadn't a care in the world. Like he hadn't just been attempting to waltz out of the damn room. “Thank you for visiting me, Wufei.”

Wufei threw his hands in the air. “You insufferable bastard!”

“Good-bye, Wufei.”

Wufei's chest heaved. He wanted to beat the hell out of the man. He wanted to lift him up and hurt him until he started making sense.

He wanted to kiss him.

He stood back in shock as that knowledge filtered into his mind. Two nurses swept into the room then, one going straight to the monitor, the other pushing Wufei out of the way and touching Treize's neck.

The nurse jumped and screamed slightly when Treize opened his eyes and smiled at her.

Wufei managed to explain the situation between gasps and panicked questions, and when he finally did, the two nurses fixed the IV and scolded Treize like he was five. And the damn bang popped back down in front of Wufei's face.

* * *

Quatre started pulling Trowa's arm as soon as they arrived, heedless of his other arm, trapped in a string, and the crutches he had very blatantly stopped using after the first couple of days. Trowa knew the blond was taking his cue from Heero, who despite his injury had yet to use his crutches even once.

But this was the first time in days that Quatre had been happy about arriving at the hospital, and Trowa also knew what that meant.

“Duo's awake, then?”

“Yes! Now hurry!” Quatre didn't bother introducing himself at the main desk, instead whipping out a name like he did his old badge. It worked even better than being a cop.

They were on the second floor when suddenly Quatre stopped in his tracks and turned back to the elevator. Trowa stopped beside him. “Something happening?” Over the past few days, Trowa had learned why Quatre hated hospitals. More than once, he'd started crying and whispered a quick prayer of loss. Other times he would pause and turned to someone they were passing. And oftentimes Quatre would go and speak a word or two to someone and pat them on the shoulder.

Hospitals were an empath's nightmare.

“Wufei's coming,” Quatre said, and his tone was lighter there, too. Treize was all right, then.

“Good.” Trowa squeezed Quatre's shoulder. “How are things for him?”

“He's annoyed and pissed,” Quatre said, and he was positively beaming.

For Wufei, Trowa mused, it probably was a good thing. The elevator doors opened then, and Wufei came out his eyes glaring down the hall. If there was any sort of accelerant on the floor, Trowa was certain that look would turn it to flames. “Chang.”

Wufei looked at him and nodded in greeting. His hands were stuffed in his pockets. Most likely in order to keep anything from being unnecessarily broken. “Did you hear about Maxwell?”

Trowa shook his head and pointed at Quatre. “We just knew he was awake. We're going to his room. Care to join us?”

Wufei nodded. “I was heading there. Maybe this time I'll get to speak to the fool.”

Quatre was laughing. He reached out and grabbed Trowa's hand, entwining their fingers. Wufei looked down and raised a brow at the public display of affection. Trowa disregarded the look. “All right. It seems we are a very strange crew.”

Quatre nodded and bounced on his feet. “Isn't it great?”

Wufei lost against the urge to smile at the blond. “Yes. It is. Very much.”

“C'mon!” Quatre reached out and grabbed Wufei's hand, too, and turned to their Chinese friend. “I'm glad for you, Wufei.”

The man blushed and looked away. “Nothing's happening. I cannot stand that man.”

Quatre just smiled and tugged the two of them along. He was like a kid heading for a carnival ride. “Besides, I think Duo's awake, and I think if we hurry, we can make them blush, too!”

Wufei sputtered and started pulling against Quatre's hand. Trowa laughed.

This was a good beginning.


	34. Valentine's Day

“Heero, I have said this a million fucking times and I swear, if you don't start fucking listening to me, you will be left out in this godforsaken weather _alone_.”

“And it's my goddamn house, so you can be the one on the streets.”

Duo groaned over the link. Heero listened to it with his gun before him, facing the T-section of the building and a piece of wallpaper hanging depressed from its wall. “I'm telling you, he went right.”

“And I'm telling you that the right leads to a dead end and a fucking grate that leads to the left. Go left.”

“And what if he waits to get back?” Heero inched forward. To his left, Wufei did the same.

“Then leave Wufei there, you stupid pansy-ass. And hurry up. You're starting to bore me.”

“You could've stayed off this hit like Quatre and Trowa.”

“Then you'd be about to run off down the wrong fucking corridor.”

Heero ground his teeth together. “I swear to God, Duo, when we get back to the house–”

“Oh, no, Yuy,” Wufei cut in. “I most certainly do not want to hear what you will do with Maxwell when you return to your house.”

Heero sent Wufei a quick glare. “Really, Wufei? Really?”

Wufei simply nodded Heero forward.

“Hey, 'Fei! Are you sure? 'Cause Heero's got this way with his-”

“Maxwell!” Heero looked back in time to see the cherry blush on Wufei's face. He grinned as he rounded the corner. The idiot; it wasn't as if the two of them were doing anything like that yet.

He focused back on the bust. Left. Fine. But only because he knew Duo was right.

“Yeah, yeah,” Duo replied to Wufei's outburst. “Gods, you're boring.”

Wufei muttered something unintelligible.

“Love you, too, 'Fei.”

“Don't call me that, Maxwell.”

“Don't call me that, 'Fei.”

Heero shook his head and looked around. The ratty wallpaper had followed him into this hall, as well. The faded yellow flowers were the perfect touch to a horribly ugly house. The floors were so rotted Heero was surprised he wasn't falling down into the basement. The worst part of it was the mold and mildew blanketing the walls, eating at the plaster and the wood and just _everything_.

It made him want to sneeze. It would probably make him sick.

The floorboards creaked and groaned as he walked, pretty much chomping away any chance of a surprise attack. He thought he could see a dented, dirty grate among the mildew and overall filth. He could only imagine how disgusting that filter system was by now. This place was a long, long distance from its once pristine condition.

“Hey, have I mentioned that I hate shrinks and everything to do with them?”

“Let me guess, Maxwell. You think this business went to hell not because the so-called 'shrink' was homicidal, but because he was a shrink to begin with?”

“That's correct.”

“You need help.”

“See?! That's just what I'm talking about!”

“Hush, you two.” Heero pointed his gun at the grate and hid out of the grate's line of fire. “Get the fuck out of there, jackass.”

“Jesus, Heero, did you forget the bastard's packing?”

“Yuy?”

“Hold position,” Heero hissed. Nothing in the grate stirred. “Get out or I start firing.”

A tiny plume of dust wafted from the grate. “He's heading for you, Wufei.”

“I've already got this side covered.”

“See, Heero? You wasted your chance to be Superman. Sucks to be you.”

“I went to the left, Duo.”

Duo was silent for that one. “Huh. Ha! Then you're just stupid!”

Heero really should've been annoyed at that one, but all he could do was smile. “It's because I let you take the lead last night. You infected me when you–”

“Shut the fuck up, the both of you! Did you fucking forget I was here?!”

Heero laughed. The man really didn't know that he and Duo still hadn't gone to that level.

They played a game of ping-pong before the man realized he was trapped and started shooting at the walls. Bugs started falling from the destroyed plaster, and the air was quickly filled with what would most certainly infect Heero's body within the hour, if the smell and the itchiness of his eyes was a clue.

But then the fool inevitably ran out of bullets and was rounded up like a rat. They grabbed him and informed Duo, who called the police.

“Wait – Maxwell, who did you call?”

Duo was silent over the link while Wufei stewed. Their perp was wiggling in Heero's grasp. Heero shook him back and forth until he stilled. And of course the bastard started cursing.

“Uh, sorry, 'Fei.”

“Maxwell, goddamn it!”

“Sor- _ry!”_

But Heero smiled. He knew damn well it was no accident.

It didn't take long for the first police cruiser to arrive, and when it did Heero and Wufei were waiting outside the abandoned corporate building, Heero babysitting the fool in their charge and Wufei looking ready to bolt. It was bitterly cold out, it being the middle of February, but the inside of the compound was equally cold and there were more places to hide if their captive miraculously escape.

Only one man stepped out from the car, his hair perfect and his grin almost evil. “Yuy. Wufei.”

“Khushrenada.” Heero nodded in greeting. Wufei looked away.

Treize smiled at his ex-lover before turning to Heero again. “I see you managed to catch the fool.”

Heero tilted his head slightly. “Of course we did. We're the best in the area, _including_ all of your men.”

Treize simply held out his hand, into which Heero pushed his little captive. The man spat at Heero, but having already been the recipient of such attempts for years, Heero easily dodged. That started a new round of cursing. “Wufei. Will I be seeing you this Friday?”

Wufei turned on Treize as if the man had thrown firecrackers in his face. “No! _Hell_ , no! We are _not_ together, and I am _not_ going out with you!”

“You heretics will be devoured within the souls of your own brethren, and when the night splits into–”

Treize shook the man but never looked away from Wufei's face. “I will see you at seven.”

“No! Don't you _dare_ come to my house!” Wufei stormed over to Treize and stuck his finger in the man's face. “I don't want you anywhere near my home, do you hear me?! I will kick your fucking ass!”

“Is that an invitation?”

Heero wordlessly took the suspect back just before Wufei swung his fist at Treize's face. And the old dance began again.

Sirens from down the street said more cops were coming now, but the fight didn't pause. And it wouldn't. Not until Treize won. Again.

Heero went to his car and leaned against the side door, making himself comfortable for the ensuing show. Wufei was still up to bat, and he was trying a few more extravagant moves. Now that they knew without doubt that Treize was healed, Wufei was no longer pulling his punches. Treize didn't seem too concerned about this, though his hands weren't in his pockets like they'd been in the first few fights. Wufei kicked at the man's chest, forcing him to take a quick step back. Treize was smiling. Wufei was snarling.

All was right with the world.

Except his ears were getting cold.

“Hey, Heero?”

“What is it, Duo?”

“Could you grab the shit from the list on your way back tonight? I know it's really late, but we don't have any more milk _or_ eggs, and I desire food.”

Heero rolled his eyes and shook the bleating bastard in his hold again. “Of course.”

“Great.”

Heero's eyes narrowed then. There was something off about Duo for a split second, something that didn't quite fit. “And could you have Wufei take the shrink?”

“Wufei would kill me.” Bringing in the shrink meant giving the oral report to Khushrenada, their official precinct partner. Having the chief on their side meant getting good cases from the start of their P.I. team. It meant that after only a handful of months, they were almost lucrative.

“Not if you said I'd asked you to.”

“Then he'd kill _you_.”

“Yeah, but not until he sees me again. By then, I'll have a good excuse.”

Heero rolled his eyes. Wufei's turn was ending; Treize was starting to look bored, and Wufei's attacks were a short second slower. Treize took over even as Heero watched; the blocks turned to grabs, the evasions to punches. Wufei had to jump backward and block Treize's second blow.

“Wufei!”

“Your heathenish hearts have fallen into the darkness inside everyone; you can't understand your own fallacies, but inside you lurks–”

Heero sighed and shook the man again. “Isn't there an off switch for you?” he muttered, only noticing afterward how similar to Duo that had sounded. He looked back to Wufei in time to see the man duck around another punch and swerve away from Treize.

“What?”

Heero cocked his head and pointed to his earpiece. “Duo wants me to throw you into the pit alone for some reason.”

“I heard!” Wufei shouted back.

“…Oh, yeah,” Duo said, and even from where Heero stood a few number of meters away, he heard Wufei snort.

“Just this once, Maxwell! And that excuse better be good,” Wufei warned, his voice lowering enough that Heero only heard him through the communication link. Wufei jumped over a kick and aimed squarely for Treize's face.

“Um, for this to happen,” Heero said, waving their prisoner back and forth, “someone needs to take him.”

“Yeah!” Duo piped up, his voice chipper enough to give them both fair warning. Wufei snarled something, his voice too full of pants to be understood. “Take him, already!”

Heero had a feeling Duo wasn't talking about their shrink.

“Maxwell…”

Apparently Wufei didn't think so, either.

Treize snatched Wufei's ear, grabbing the earpiece and placing it by his own ear. He dodged Wufei's reaching hands. “Duo Maxwell?”

“What the? Fuckface?”

The name, for some reason, only made Treize smile a little wider. “Yes. How are you doing?” Wufei outright snarled and wrapped a hand around Treize's lower arm. He tugged, but Treize simply pulled against Wufei and successfully kept the piece by his ear. Wufei cursed.

“I'm well enough, rat bastard. Why the fuck do you have 'Fei's link?”

“Who says it's Chang's?” Wufei shouted a few words he must have learned from Duo, words that traveled far enough to reach Heero's ears.

The crazy doctor stopped shouting and stared. Quietly, he murmured, “that young man is afraid of himself.”

Heero blinked down. “Holy shit, I think our shrink has a nerve still hooked on straight.”

“You and I both know it's 'Fei's; Heero wouldn't go near the two of you for threat of his life.”

Duo's response made Treize look over to Heero. “Oh? You believe I could best him?”

“No,” Duo was quick to say. “I wouldn't beaten him to a pulp.”

Heero rolled his eyes, but the answer made Treize laugh. Wufei didn't seem pleased with this. His knee almost met with Treize's groin before the taller man managed to swerve away at the last second. “I thank you, then, Duo Maxwell. Again.”

“ _M_ _axwell_ _!”_

Duo made a weak chuckle. “Uh… I gotta go. Heero, don't forget that, um… stuff. The food stuff. Bye!”

“Duo,” Heero growled, but the brunette didn't respond. Heero sent Treize a heated glare. Treize simply smiled. “Wufei! I'm leaving, so take this damn man and get the hell out of the cold before you freeze!”

Wufei whipped around to Heero. “You planned this, didn't you?!”

Heero sent him a droll stare. “You can't believe this was my idea.”

Even from the distance between them, Heero saw the grinding of Wufei's teeth. “Maxwell.” It sounded like Wufei was contemplating murder.

“Wufei, I give you full leave to punish him for this, b remember that he's still recovering, and I'm afraid that if you intend to harm him in any way, I will be forced to kick your ass.” Heero adjusted his stance against his car just enough to show off his gun, then pushed off and stood. “I have to go.”

“Yuy, you bastard–”

“Now, now, Wufei. You shouldn't be so angry with your friends.”

Wufei bit Treize's bait, the patronizing tone apparently hitting one of his many nerves. The shouting match began anew.

Heero simply walked over and shoved the shrink forward. He stumbled and staggered and yelped. Treize caught the man and turned to his car. “Coming, Chang Wufei?”

Wufei glared, but after several short moments, trudged after Treize. The glare he sent Heero's way was murderous.

Heero only smiled.

* * *

Heero trudged into the house and shook a hand through his hair, trying to get some of the snow off. The downpour had started only a half hour ago, and already the snow was starting to accumulate on the streets. He thought he would walk into his house and find Duo plastered against the window; the fool was always fascinated by the snow, especially when he was safely warm inside the house.

So finding the living room empty made his eyebrow raise.

He looked around. His house was different now. Walking in like this, he could see the differences. The shoes on the floor. The laptop on the sofa. The stupid painting Duo had seen at a yard sale and had bought because he'd liked the colors. Through the living room and into the kitchen showed even more tiny changes. Animal magnets were scattered along the fridge. A computer magazine was propped open on the counter. On the table was a Hot Wheels car Heero had bought Duo as a gag gift. Underneath it was a folded piece of paper.

Heero moved toward it, feeling a bit of trepidation burn through his nerves. Why was there a note on the table? Where was Duo?

“Duo?!” Heero turned around, ready to search the house. Then his cop instincts finally kicked in and he went back to the note. With one hand on his gun, he grabbed it and flipped it open.

_Bedroom, moron._

Heero's eyebrow twitched.

He stomped to the bedroom and snapped open the door, words already forming in his mind. Everything stopped short when that door widened and Duo turned from the windowsill. His hair was unbound. It was the first thing Heero noticed, something he rarely got to see, even now. Duo had demanded he do his own hair, even back when he could barely move without pain. The brunette didn't seem to enjoy having his hair loose and on display.

Following that long trail, curved naturally due to being braided when still wet, brought Heero to his second realization. Duo was only wearing a pair of black boxers. Heero's mouth went dry.

Duo smiled at him a little nervously and tilted his head. “You called for me?”

Heero thought he should still be angry about that, but he didn't think he could manage anything at the moment. He would be pissed later. “Yeah. You…” He lifted his hand with the note.

Duo looked down at it and raised an eyebrow of his own. “Um, Heero, why is your gun out?”

The question mustered up some of the anger he'd thought was too buried under pure, hard lust. “You weren't here, and there was a note on the table.”

“With my Jag on top of it.” But Duo's smile was only partly teasing. “You were worried.”

Heero wanted to be angry, but Duo was moving toward him and the sway of his hips was making those boxers look a little low. Heero's brain fuzzed. “Yes… what?”

Duo grinned outright then. His fingers trailed up Heero's hips to his waist to his chest. Duo was only a couple inches shorter than him, just enough to give a shadow under his lashes and make his simple glance up sexy as hell. “Heero, I kind've, um…”

Heero could only blink down at Duo. He had to back away. He took a deep breath and held it. It was either back away now or it would be too late.

But then Duo grabbed his shirt and wrenched him forward and even as Heero clearly saw a small wince of pain on Duo's face, the smaller man leaned up and planted a kiss on Heero's lips. It wasn't completely new; Heero and Duo had kissed a number of times since Duo's lips had healed all those months ago. And it wasn't as if Duo hadn't instigated something before. But this was different than those other times; when before Duo had been almost violent, almost angry, this was soft. Heero found himself melting into it despite himself. Duo's lips were warm, warm and sweet. Was that chocolate on Duo's lips? The fool had probably been drinking that hot chocolate again, slurping up the marshmallows like a little kid. Heero was sad he'd missed it.

Duo raised his hands to Heero's cheeks, his fingers soft and cool and a little wet from being plastered against the window. It made Heero smile.

Those cool hands pressed a bit harder, curling into Heero's skin as those lips tilted and meshed against Heero's, until one hot lick on Heero's lower lip earned a sharp hiss. Duo plunged right in, wrapping his hands back around Heero's head and snagging around his hair. That tongue had definitely tasted chocolate at some point. Heero shivered.

And then he pushed Duo away.

He was surprised to find his breath ragged, his fingers trembling. He shook his head to clear it. “No. No, Duo. We can't–”

“Damn you, Heero,” Duo growled. Heero focused on Duo just in time to see that scowl grow a morph into that dangerous, determined look he recognized by now. Duo grabbed at Heero's shirt, and when Heero pulled away, Duo simply chased after him and tugged at the buttons. Heero reached for Duo's arms to stop him. “If you touch me right now, I will hurt you.” Heero hesitated. That kind of activity would be bad. Duo's shoulder still wasn't healed, no matter what Duo said. He'd already winced, and all he'd done was grab at Heero. If he did anything more, what would happen?

Heero's hesitation wasn't missed, and Duo took the chance to pull at Heero's shirt until two buttons popped. A sharp ping came from somewhere across the room. Heero stumbled away, but Duo was already attached to his collarbone, pulling at the skin and scraping his teeth over the bone. The breath in Heero's throat froze. “D-Duo. Stop.”

“No. No more stopping.” Duo's breath hit his chest and made his body heat soar. Heero bit his tongue to stop the moan. “I don't want any more stopping.”

This was bad. Heero grabbed Duo's cheeks and pulled him back. Duo didn't wince at the force, but that was to be expected. Duo had caved in and let Heero pay for cosmetic surgery once his cheeks healed, and they looked completely normal again. They were perfectly healed now. His cheeks were a safe place to touch. “Duo. I mean it.”

Those violet eyes flared. “Heero, Quatre and Trowa have had more sex in the past month than most have in a year. They've been together just as long as we have. And yet they, unlike us, are having sex. And do you know why?”

Heero frowned. This argument again. “Most likely because they had not been tortured.”

“Exactly!” And Duo stamped his foot.

That one left Heero momentarily speechless. “What?”

“Quatre only got a bullet in him for his troubles, so Trowa doesn't feel like he has to pander to the guy. And I got beat to shit, so you touch me as if I'm made out of porcelain!” And Duo stamped his foot again. The vision of all that hair around that flushed face was starting to bring that heat to the forefront of his attention. Jesus, Duo angry was a sight. “It's like back when I was in the hospital and you didn't fucking touch me _anywhere_. And not to sound too damn girly, but it's making me think I'm suddenly a… a freak!”

Heero watched Duo run a hand through his thick hair, stopping when it got too tied up in the knots. He turned to pace. “Duo, you're not a freak.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you, anyway!” Duo turned back to Heero and threw a hand up in the air. “I wanted the surgery, you know?” And the subject was so sudden and random that Heero blinked. _This_ was why he hardly ever won in a verbal fight with Duo. He always ended up too confused. “I wanted it so badly I didn't even fucking fight with you over the bill despite the fact that it's your fucking money and I didn't want to touch it. Because I knew that I had scarring all along my face and you hadn't touched me in _ages_.”

“Duo,” Heero said, and he reached out to grab Duo's shoulders. The lithe man pulled sharply away. He dropped his hands. “I've kissed you plenty of times.”

“Yeah, like French acquaintances when they see each other again. Like a granny to her grandson. Like…” But Duo winced at whatever he'd just thought and hook his head. “And yeah, I guess the thought's really, really girly, but, you know, usually guys want to touch the ones they like!”

Duo's bare chest was heaving, going up and down enough to pull on the muscles of his stomach and make the boxers quiver slightly. Heero cleared his throat.

“Duo.”

“I am perfectly fine, you fucking asshole!” Duo got into Heero's face, until their lips were nearly sealed together. “I'm still healing in a couple places but it's nothing that would get in the way of us just fucking touching each other and – and what the hell are you looking at?”

Heero groaned in defeat and grabbed Duo's face, holding him still until his lips were sealed over Duo's, snatching away any more shouts and meshing their lips into each other. Duo gasped, giving Heero the chance to push in, to lower his hands to his neck and rub to the back and grab all that hair, tugging at it. He slipped his tongue in. Duo had brushed his teeth before this, and if he was tasting things right, he'd also popped in a quick stick of gum.

Somehow, the idea made Heero smile.

That would be until Duo decided to run his hands against Heero's chest and down to the waistline of his jeans.

He backed up like he'd been stung. “Duo, no.”

He caught it then. A flash went through those violet eyes before determination set back in. Heero felt something clench in his chest. Hurt. Duo was hurt.

He really did think he was too ugly to touch now.

Shit.

Heero reached for Duo then, but the man danced away. Duo grabbed the bottom bedframe and shook his head. “Heero, I kind've want to have sex with you before I turn thirty. Can we try that, please?”

“No.” Duo flinched. Heero's hands moved uselessly in the air. “I mean, yes, but–”

“You're being a bastard!” Duo slammed a hand on the bed. “You – you have to tell me.” That chest was heaving even more now, and Duo's head was cocked up, his chin lifted. It almost looked like anger, but Heero knew enough about Duo to know better. He wasn't angry. He was upset. He was trying very, very hard not to cry.

Shit.

“Duo.”

“Shut the fuck up, Yuy.” Duo looked down at the bed as if it were a baring tiger. He snatched his hand away from it. “Make a goddamn decision.”

Heero's breath left him in a whoosh. A decision? Did Duo really mean that? Was Duo really telling him to fuck him or... or break off their relationship?

“Look, I'm not saying like a… a rape sort of thing.” Duo looked away. “But we've been together for half a fuckin' year and you have yet to… you know… anything.” Duo waved his hand stupidly and turned into a tomato. “I just… you know?”

In any other situation, the first thing Heero would have said was a joke about eloquence. In any other situation, Duo would have told him to shut the hell up before the words had even left his mouth. In any other situation, it wouldn't feel like something was about to break.

“Duo, I can't.” That flash of hurt took longer to disappear this time than before. “It's not-”

“Can't? Or won't?” Duo's gaze was hard when it pierced into him. “You and I both know I've healed. And you did long before me.”

“Duo, your shoulder is still healing, and your ribs–”

But Duo was already nodding, his eyes already dark. Duo had already come to his decision. “Got it.”

And Duo moved past him to leave the room.

Heero turned. This couldn't be happening. Duo couldn't be leaving. Not because of this.

Heero ran and grabbed Duo just before he made it to the bathroom. He kicked and squirmed in Heero's grasp, to the point where he was completely off the ground, placing his weight completely on Heero. The weight almost made him drop the long-haired fool. Heero's chest was on Duo's shoulder. Shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing, Yuy?!” Duo reached back to grab at Heero. His feet, while scrabbling for purchase on the hallway floor, never neared his legs. The stupid, half-naked bastard was trying to keep from hurting him.

“Duo, calm down. Just…” And he finally said to hell with it and hugged Duo to him, ignoring, for a short instant, the thrill of fear that crossed his spine when Duo's left shoulder rested against his chest. “Just please calm down for a minute.”

Heero's hands rested against Duo's chest as he fought once more for breath. He could feel Duo's nipple against one finger. His own breath suddenly became a bit short. “What the fuck now, Yuy?”

“Please just listen?” Duo seemed ready to argue that one, but Heero dipped down and kissed Duo's shoulder and his fingers were trembling enough or something that made Duo quieten. “Not to sound a little girly,” Heero said, “but I'm scared.”

Duo scoffed. “You're scared of sex?”

“No!” Heero quickly denied. Duo tried to shove away from him, but Heero instinctively kept him close. Only afterward did he realize he'd put pressure on Duo's shoulder again. “Shit. Are you all right?”

“I swear to God, Yuy, when you let go of me, I'm going to fucking hurt you.”

It sounded almost like he was crying. Was Duo trembling, too? Heero pressed another kiss on Duo, this time in the valley between his neck and shoulder. Duo shivered. “That's not what I meant to say.”

Duo snorted.

The scent of Duo's body wash was all over his skin. Had Duo taken a shower? But then why was his hair curled? Heero swallowed hard. Had Duo really put so much effort into this? No wonder he was so mortified.

And dammit, the man was still only wearing those black boxers. He was going to go insane. “I can't touch you without thinking about you that night.”

Of course they both knew he was talking about the night of the bust. “I want to be with you, Duo, really I do. But you're still so…”

“So what, Yuy? Fragile?”

Heero most certainly wasn't going to say that that was the exact word he'd been about to use.

Duo turned in his arms, and Heero didn't stop him. There was no pain on Duo's face, no indication that Heero's reckless acts had done anything to irritate Duo's wounds. And thought Heero had thought he'd heard tears in Duo's voice, his eyes were still dry. “Heero, that was forever ago. The doctors gave me a clean bill of health. In a few more weeks, there'll be nothing left but these damn scars.”

But Heero could only shake his head. “Not to me.”

Duo scoffed. “You're being stupid.” Purple eyes blinked and narrowed. “You can't tell me you really think I haven't healed.”

Heero only shook his head.

It didn't take very long for Duo to understand just what was going on with him. “You – you… you fucking shit!” Duo pushed against him, useless as it was. And when that didn't work, the sneaky bastard grabbed Heero's lips in another kiss. Surprise had him stumbling back, almost falling, until Duo turned him around and slammed him against the wall. Those hands were coming back, grabbing at the last buttons of his shirt and pulling it apart. “Heero, I've wanted to be with you since before I even got these damn scars.” Duo leaned down before Heero could stop him and licked his nipple. He hissed and jerked. “And I think you feel about the same damn way.” Duo dipped one hand down to Heero's pants. Heero caught the moan, but the rest of his body wasn't as controlled. “So get your head out of your ass, please?”

“Dammit, Duo.” He reached for that hair again, but Duo ducked onto his knees and lightly bit the jean fabric hiding his crotch. Heero instinctively stilled. Heero couldn't safely look down, not without losing any last vestige of control. But still he knew that Duo was smirking.

The first button almost made a popping sound sliding out of the slit, and hell if the zipper didn't sound like the reloading of a magazine. His legs decided an escape was in order, but Duo wrenched down his jeans and he simply stumbled back against the wall. Duo had learned Heero's penchant for going buff under his clothes, and had been disturbed to learn that Heero preferred it even when out on a bust. He didn't seem so concerned about it just then.

“Duo, st-stop.”

Those long, slim fingers stilled over Heero's skin. “Stop because you aren't ready, or because you're stupid?”

Shit. Duo's breath was ghosting over him. He slammed his head against the wall and felt himself harden. And throb. “Neither – both. Whatever.”

“Yuy, I hate to tell you, but this position leaves my shoulder unharmed.”

Shit, he didn't need to hear that. “Your ribs–”

“Perfectly fine.” That warm breath blew on his dick as Duo pulled those fingers over to its base. “Any other complaints?”

There might have been if that tongue hadn't flicked out to test his tip. Any mental functioning was lost then. Duo took his silence to be consent and ran his fingers slowly up the underside, playing with it as if it were a fragile toy. Heero hissed. His hands scrabbled on the wall, looking for a sort of leverage.

And then Duo swallowed him.

He banged his head against the wall again. Those lips cupped around him while that hot cavern sucked. A wet trail played up and down. He could feel the tiniest scrape of teeth, just enough to warn him. One hand slid down, tickling his sac. The other wrapped around the base of his cock and slowly squeezed. His hips bucked.

Duo seemed wholly undeterred by the sudden movement. A hum vibrated along his length then, and through a foggy head he realized Duo was doing it on purpose. He had to bite his lip to keep from shouting. “Duo,” he panted finally, and with one hand he reached down, grabbing the back of Duo's head. His fingers trembled. Before he knew it, he was holding Duo still and slowly his hips slid forward and back. Duo seemed to pick up on his movements quickly, and though his fingers fumbled for a second, his mouth slid straight into the rhythm, and with the slightest tilt in his head, he followed the pace Heero set.

The fire boiled through his stomach to his groin and burned white. Following it blindly, he pumped harder, faster, until finally it was more of a rubbing than anything else, Duo's hand pushing against the base and his tongue enfolding the tip. With a grunt and a curse, the white stars flared and stole his vision.

And with a sudden fear, he pulled Duo away. Those teeth almost bit down in surprise, but Duo caught himself and widened his jaw. That purple gaze rose up to meet his. “Heero?”

“Tell me you're prepared.”

The lust in those eyes clouded a bit darker, momentarily confused, before he grinned in triumph. Later, Heero promised, that bastard would be regretting that look. “Of course.” And Duo got up from the floor, grabbed Heero's hand, and pulled him back into the bedroom.

Time wasn't wasted on such things as pulling the covers back or even getting comfortably on the bed. Duo shoved Heero down on the bed and rolled over enough to grab a large bottle of lube – talk about optimism – from the nightstand, next to the alarm clock. Heero watched Duo move, disturbed to see no careful rearranging or twitching. He was still garbed in those black boxers, the fabric straining much more than before and much less likely to fall off. Heero's shirt still hung from the sleeves. He took the moment to rip it off.

When Duo turned back, Heero snatched the lube from him and laid it down on the pillow beside him. Duo pouted, but he grabbed the hem of his boxers and... hesitated. Then with a growl he ripped them down. His hair slid around his shoulders as he bent, pooling around him onto the bed. Heero wrapped a small swatch around his fingers and lightly tugged. Duo, on one foot, toppled onto the bed, splaying himself on Heero's chest.

Heero smirked and leaned up, grabbing Duo's lips in a quick kiss. When they parted, it was with a smack. “I like you hair down.”

Duo turned beet red. Something in those eyes brightened before he looked down. He kicked one leg back and the boxers went flying. “Thanks.”

“And you're right, for once.” Duo looked up to snap at him, and Heero grabbed those open lips again. Duo's shouts were muffled, swallowed and morphed into moans. Heero licked those lips before releasing them again. “You aren't all that injured anymore.”

Duo blinked. “Told you so.”

“Mature, Duo Maxwell.”

“You know it.” Duo reached for the lube, but Heero pulled it away and unpopped the top himself. “You're taking top, but I'm top.”

Duo furrowed his brow for a moment. “Yuy… _no_.”

“That or nothing.”

Duo glared, but he finally grumbled under his breath and rolled fully on top of Heero. “At least I get to look down on you.”

Heero simply cocked an eyebrow and squirted some of the lubrication onto his fingers. Duo scowled, but he willingly spread his legs for Heero to reach up. Duo was hard as hell, and the urge to touch led him to skim a finger down a vein, making Duo jump in surprise and yelp. Heero chuckled. “Bastard,” Duo hissed, but then he cried out softly and bucked. Heero's finger had rested against his hole. That hair fell everywhere, pooling even further over Heero's chest and neck and arms as Duo's head fell back, exposing his slim throat. When Heero slid his first digit inside, Duo moaned and squirmed on top of him. It took only a short moment for Duo to flinch and bend into Heero. Those eyes looked a little doubtful.

Heero pulled Duo's head down, successfully tangling his face in those long strands, and dragged that mouth back to his. He entered Duo as he did, playing his tongue over Duo's until they were battling it out, Duo's ass wiggling and pushing down on Heero's finger. A sweep of Duo's interior was rewarded with a sharp cry and a spasm. Duo's hands gripped the bed sheets and twisted. Duo pulled his lips away from Heero's and rocked against Heero's finger, whining almost piteously. This time it was Heero who wore triumph on his face. Duo saw and bent until he had Heero's ear in his mouth. “Smartass.”

Heero laughed and turned his head to lick Duo's cheek. The man jumped, unintentionally pulling his hair across Heero's nipple. He hissed. Retribution had him sliding his second finger in. Duo jumped again, but this time his head dipped down and bit Heero's pulse. His back arced, hitting Duo's chest and stomach.

They couldn't wait much longer after that. Once more Heero found that prostrate and Duo keened, shivering so badly Heero thought the man might come, but Duo panted and rode it out and then it was time to reposition, to get Duo's knees just that bit wider and for Heero to adjust his body, and then they were looking at each other with eyes turned almost black and Heero's tip was pressing against Duo. Heero started it, holding Duo's hips steady and slowly dropping Duo onto him. Duo gasped and tensed. His hands ran up to Heero's biceps and clenched, his fingers pressing in until Heero's skin was as white as his knuckles. “Duo – is this… your first…?”

“Shut up,” Duo said, and his teeth were set. “Think this is a habit? I'd be more ready if you hadn't taken so damn long.”

“If ever I thought sex would make you more poetic, you've just proven me wrong.” And before Duo could retort to that one, he slid the man down a bit more. That hair of his swirled around them like a curtain, cutting off the room around them. And when Duo finally rested on him to the hilt and they were both panting at the new contact, that hair fell around Heero's head, filling his vision with Duo and nothing else. Duo's hands still clenched around Heero's arms, but now he was aware of the loosening of the grip and the way Duo was leaning on him more. His pants were changing, turning into more what Heero was feeling. Duo moaned again and shook Heero's arms a bit. Then the man above him rubbed against him and he was moving, pulling at Duo's hips, guiding them until they found the rhythm he was trying to make and they were bouncing, making the bed creak and slam against the wall. Duo's keens took on a more urgent tone pretty quickly.

“Calm down, Duo,” Heero gasped, running his hands around Duo's waist and up his chest, pushing Duo back. His eyes, having closed somewhere in there, opened and glared glazedly at him. Heero slowed them back down to a rocking sort of sway that, when Heero moved to slow Duo, too, earned him a groan and a heated curse. Despite the heat breathing through his very veins, Heero chuckled.

“For fuck's sake, Heero–”

“No poetry at all. This is the first time for us, idiot.”

“I'm smarter than you, asshole!” Duo was still panting, though, and the pre-cum dribbling down his length made the argument rather ridiculous at the moment.

“Only with computers.” Duo looked ready to argue, so Heero just skipped the talking and reached between them for Duo's member. Duo yelped and jumped as his fingers wrapped around him. Heero gulped as Duo's jump made that body of his move and twist, jerking his dick along for the ride. Who could know that such a move could make his entire body spasm?

Still, he managed to get Duo to sit still and played a little tune with his fingers. Duo's dick jerked at the feel and its owner growled.

Heero leaned his own head back and closed his eyes, letting himself take one last moment to feel Duo's body around him and the sweat beading up along their bodies and the touch of Duo's fingers against his chest, those fingers spreading and that body jerking a bit when Heero thrummed against the vein pulsing underneath. “Heero. Heero, I need to _move_.”

Heero smiled and looked back at Duo and the almost-pain on his face. Some strands of hair had plastered themselves to his face and chest and back. “Me, too,” he whispered, and his fingers started pumping up and down Duo's length as he pushed into Duo's body. Duo leaned into Heero, those hands of his curling on Heero's chest and scratching him. Those hips rocked with Heero until they were simply moving, too intent on the returning white to give a damn about finesse. Duo ran his nails up to Hero's shoulders and dug in, and the sharp clutch make Heero shake, and just like that it was over and he crashed into the light full-speed, barely having the sense to hit Duo's prostrate once more before he felt Duo convulse above him and around him and damned if it didn't make the white even brighter. He groaned as his seed spilled and felt Duo spill, too. Duo called out Heero's name and arced his back, driving Heero just that tiniest bit deeper.

Duo almost fell on top of him when their climaxes were over, just barely turning and collapsing onto his side. Heero slid out and almost felt like he'd lost something. So he wrapped his arms around Duo and pulled him into his chest. They were both panting, and soon they would both have to get up and change the sheets or something before they could both go to sleep. But for now, this really felt perfect.

“Told you I was all better,” Duo said, mumbling into Heero's chest. It made Heero roll his eyes; the man seriously had an issue with getting the last word in.

“Yes, you did,” he said, feeling somehow generous. It had to be the sex. “And I suppose a thank you is in order.”

Duo mumbled something, then lifted his head and pressed his lips to Heero's chest, right above his heart. “You're welcome.”

The man _was_ a romantic. Heero smiled. “We have to clean up.”

Duo groaned. “In a minute.” But despite the words, Duo pushed against him until he let the man go. He only rolled over and grabbed something off of the nightstand before turning back around and grabbing Heero's hand. It was something small and clinked as it was pressed into his palm. Heero looked at Duo with a frown, but the man was already standing up. His ears were slightly red. “I'm gonna go wash up, okay? And, um...” He rushed to the hallway, and his next words didn't reach Heero until the man was already closing the bathroom door. “Happy Valentine's Day.”

Heero blinked, not quite comprehending the words for a time. Valentine's Day? He looked at the clock, but it only showed the time. He looked down at his hand, remembering Valentine's Day as a day for couples. Traditionally it was for guys and girls, but maybe he should have thought of it, anyway?

In his hand was a small ring, thick and silver, with a small, emerald-cut stone inside. It was dark blue.

“If you don't like it, whatever. I just got it 'cause the spinel stone or whatever it's called looked like your eyes.”

Heero stared at it for a moment longer. A ring? He vaguely remembered joking with Duo about marriage and giving the man a ring for their first year anniversary.

Looked like Duo didn't want to wait that long.

He stood from the bed and went to the bathroom. The door was unlocked. Heero charged in, catching Duo by surprise and making the man jump about a foot in the air. He's grabbed a washcloth, but hadn't seemed to get any farther than that. His face looked red enough to cook on. “Heero, what the hell are you–”

Heero wrapped Duo up in his arms and started laughing.

“Heero? Um, so do you like it or not?”

Heero pulled Duo back and answered him with a kiss, one that made his own damn toes curl. He pulled away and laughed again at Duo's dumbfounded look. “Cat got your tongue?”

Duo gaped for a moment longer before snorting and lifting his chin. “If you do, then good. I expect mine to be equally thoughtful and expensive.”

Heero rolled his eyes and grabbed Duo's wrist, pulling him into the shower. He snatched the washcloth and tossed it onto the soap, then turned the water on.

“What the hell?”

Heero ignored Duo's attempt to escape and turned on the shower. “Don't you know how to clean yourself off, idiot?” He grabbed the washcloth again and grinned. “How about I show you?”

Duo blushed and backed away. “You're ready again already?”

“As you said, it's been too long.” He stalked over to Duo. The fool had essentially trapped himself. “And you should get used to it, anyway.”

“That's – I'm not always going to be bottom, you dick!”

“Try me.” And Heero leaned in to bite Duo's earlobe.

“Ah – I mean it.” But Duo wasn't fighting, and his fingers were crawling into Heero's, curling their hands together. Heero nibbled on Duo's earlobe. “Ah! Heero, dammit! The ring!”

With a growl, Heero stepped away and placed the ring on the sink, then turned back to Duo. He'd expected to have to fight to get Duo back against the wall, but he was simply standing there, his hair soaking against ever inch of his skin, his arms open and waiting. Heero smiled and easily returned to them.


End file.
